Fixing the Irreparable
by yousopugly
Summary: They say a near-death experience reaffirms the desire to keep those you love close, but what if you've hurt them so badly, they won't ever want to love you again? Blaine is alone in his house the night after the day of the shooting and about to go insane as he constantly relives the events until a knock on his door saves him from his misery.
1. Chapter 1

Blaine shivered as he turned over yet again, wishing he hadn't kicked the blanket off in panic when he'd woken up feeling trapped and claustrophobic from his nightmare. He couldn't shake the shooting from replaying round and round in his head, as if on continuous loop, and he was growing more and more frustrated. It had taken him forever to fall asleep in his empty house (his parents had gone away on a business trip, satisfied that his life was no longer in danger) and when he finally did, he just relived the events from two days ago, the scenes so clear that he felt they were actually happening.

He was huddled behind the piano again, ears straining for more gun shots over the sounds of his friends' sobs as he waited for his life to end. God, there were so many things he'd never get to do, so many things he'd never have the chance to say. And Kurt. He'd never get to see his beautiful face ever again, or watch his face light up in a smile, or hear him laugh, or earn his forgiveness. _No,_ a voice said in the back of his head, _no, you don't deserve his forgiveness. In fact, he'll be better off now. He was always better off without you._

Blaine felt rather than heard the strangled choking noise that came out of his throat as that thought hit him. He waved the camera away as Artie began trying to film him, burying his face in his arms. His head jerked up again, though, seconds later when someone shook the door handle. Oh God, they'd been found, the person with the gun had found them, it was all over. As the door flew open and another shot rang out, this time so close it seemed to rattle around Blaine's skull, and someone at the other end of the room screamed, Blaine closed his eyes and thought of Kurt. Kurt, who was still in New York. Kurt, who probably had no idea what was happening. Kurt, who would never know how much he meant to Blaine.

"I love you, Kurt." He murmured, so quietly he may as well have just been mouthing it, "I love you so much," A hand shoved him roughly and as his face hit the floor—

He woke up with a start, body momentarily freezing in terror until he realised that his face was pushed into the plush carpet of his bedroom floor, not the hard choir room floor, having rolled out of bed in his agitation.

And so here he was hours later, it had to be at least two in the morning by now, still not able to close his eyes without reliving it all and panicking himself until he was a shaking, sweaty mess. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, hugging a pillow to his chest to try and find some form of comfort. He wished he'd told his parents that he wasn't ok, that he couldn't be alone this weekend, but when they'd asked, he had felt selfish. He was fine, he hadn't been hurt and if he was a little shaken, well he'd get over it, he wouldn't disrupt his parent's busy schedules. It wasn't worth it. _He_ wasn't worth it. Blaine sniffled again as his thoughts instantly returned to Kurt and how far away he was right now.

He jumped as a loud knock on the front door echoed up the stairs, a feeling of panic instantly settling in his stomach as he wondered who the hell would be calling at this time. His first thought was some kind of murderer, but that would be taking unlucky to the extreme, wouldn't it? Surely one teenager couldn't survive a school shooting and get murdered in his own home in the same week in somewhere as mundane as Lima, Ohio? Blaine silently debated for a few more seconds the probability of the visitor being life-threatening until they knocked again, this time more persistent.

Heart hammering in his chest, he slowly climbed out of bed and, not even bothering to slide his slippers on, padded down the stairs to the front door and turned on the hall light. He felt his body tense, ready to fight or flee, as he fumbled with the keys on the doormat and shakily opened the door, still completely clueless (axe murderers aside) who it could be. He blinked as he took in the huddled figure wrapped in a long coat and then they stepped forward further and he saw unmistakably familiar blue eyes, shining brightly in the dimly-illuminated porch.

"Kurt…?" It came out as half statement, half question, but Blaine didn't have time to worry about that because he suddenly found himself with an armful of the taller boy.

"Oh God, Blaine!" Kurt sobbed, clinging onto him with ferocious force. "I-I heard on the news—and I couldn't get hold of you—I-I just thought—So I jumped on the first fight home and—Oh my God, Blaine!"

"Shh, it's ok, _I'm_ ok," he murmured soothingly into Kurt's shoulder, his own arms circling round to enclose Kurt, tugging him impossibly closer.

They stood there silently, holding onto each other as both their bodies were racked by sobs. Blaine allowed himself to be held for a minute, his body sagging exhaustedly into the familiar shape of Kurt's embrace as his breath reassuringly tickled his neck. Eventually, Kurt composed himself slightly and pulled back, not completely but enough to put some distance between them. Blaine immediately missed the warmth and Kurt must have too because he shivered slightly a moment later, pulling his coat more tightly around himself.

"Do you-do you want to come in?" Blaine asked hesitantly, unsure again now that Kurt's arms were no longer around him.

"I-uh-yeah, yeah why not? I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" Kurt stammered, walking past Blaine into the hallway. Blaine shut the door behind him.

"Kurt, it's two thirty in the morning, what could I possibly be doing that could be interrupted?" Kurt smiled weakly at him as he led them both into the dark living room, flicking a lamp on. They both sat down on the large sofa and Blaine repressed the usual feeling of hurt as Kurt put a sizable distance between them. "To be honest, it's a good job you turned up. I couldn't sleep 'cause of nightmares anyway, and I think I was going slightly insane. I may have thought you were a murderer when you first knocked." He smiled again, but this time Kurt didn't return it, his eyes remaining wide and concerned.

"I knew you'd be by yourself, I knew it," He said softly, shifting closer to Blaine on the couch, though still not touching. "That's why I had to come. I spoke to Tina and she told me you were fine but I knew you'd be shaken, I mean who wouldn't? And your parents were bound to be away somewhere and I just—I had to see you."

Blaine's heart felt as if it was literally inflating at Kurt's words, as if his whole being had been waiting to hear them. _Kurt cares about you. Despite what you did, no matter how little you deserve it, he cares about you. _Blaine tried unsuccessfully to hold in another sob as the overwhelming feeling washed over him.

Kurt looked incredibly conflicted for a moment, his eyes flicking from Blaine to his hands and back again, before he seemed to give in and reached his arms out.

"C'mere," He said, motioning towards Blaine with his hands. Blaine froze for a moment, unsure what to do and hardly daring to believe what Kurt was offering.

"Come here, Blaine," He repeated, seeing Blaine's uncertain expression. That was all it took for Blaine to shuffle along the couch and lean into him, his face naturally finding that little nook where Kurt's shoulder joined his neck and nuzzling into it. A warm sense of contentedness ran through him as he felt Kurt lean his head on top of Blaine's, his nose pressed into Blaine's ungelled, sleep-mussed curls. Kurt whispered something softly that Blaine couldn't make out, but he decided not to press the matter, wanting to savour this moment for as long as possible. He released a breath he hadn't even realised he'd been holding in as he concentrated on Kurt's hand stroking slowly up and down his back, occasionally stopping to trace invisible patterns into his pyjama top.

"That better, honey?" Kurt asked quietly, the term of endearment seemingly slipping out before he could stop it, causing his hand to freeze. Blaine tensed in reaction, waiting for Kurt to inevitably pull away, desperately trying to stop himself from showing his despair. But Kurt didn't pull back. In fact, he hugged Blaine tighter, his fingers clutching at the material of his shirt.

They stayed like that for what felt like forever, Kurt's cheek pressed against Blaine's hair, their breathing falling into sink like it had so many times before . To Blaine, it felt more like home than the house they were sat in and, for the first time since he'd heard the first gun shot, he didn't feel afraid. In fact he felt almost comforted enough to fall asleep and was just nodding off when Kurt's badly-suppressed yawn brought him back to his senses.

"Oh, Kurt, God, I'm so sorry!" He apologised immediately, dragging himself out of Kurt's hold. "How inconsiderate of me, you must be exhausted. You flew back today and it's the middle of the night and here I am keeping you up—"

"Are you being serious right now?" Kurt cut across him, raising an eyebrow and wearing an expression he reserved for when Blaine said something particularly idiotic. "You had a near-death experience not two days ago and are now understandably completely shaken up by it and yet you're still more worried about me being a bit sleep-deprived?"

"Of course I am! I shouldn't have kept you up; you shouldn't have even come in the first place!"

"I had to make sure you were alright, didn't I?"

"I don't deserve that." Blaine muttered quietly, his gaze automatically lowering to his knees as his arms folded in around himself.

"Blaine," Kurt said slowly, carefully, as if talking to a small child. "Blaine, no matter what's happened, no matter what you've done," Blaine flinched at the words. "No matter what, I will always want to make sure you're alright, okay? I lo—I care about you too much not to."

Blaine shrugged, still refusing to look up and meet those gorgeous eyes that deserved so much more than him. So much more than a pathetic cheating first love who didn't know how much Kurt meant to him until he'd lost him. Kurt sighed heavily when Blaine's expression only hardened further.

"Well, it may not be an issue, but you're right, I am tired." Kurt said, standing up and stretching his arms above his head, his t-shirt riding up over his pale stomach and, no, Blaine was definitely not staring. "You don't mind if I stay here tonight, do you? Just by the time I drive home it'll be even later and I'll only wake dad and Carol up…"

"Um, yeah, of course, I'll just go make the guest room up." Blaine turned to leave the room but Kurt's hand caught his arm and spun him back around.

"You don't have to do that." He said, his eyes looking straight into Blaine's.

"I don't think anyone's stayed in there since my uncle and aunt came to visit so there's not even a sheet—"

"Blaine." Kurt said pointedly. "I'll be perfectly fine in your bed. It's not like I've never slept there before."

"Oh-I, er, sure. I'll just go grab a blanket and sleep on the couch, hang on." Blaine made to leave again, but Kurt stopped him once more.

"Don't be stupid. I know for a fact there's plenty of room for us both." Blaine gulped loudly. "Just 'cause, you know, it's late. There's no point faffing around trying to find a spare blanket now." Kurt added hastily.

"I—yeah," Blaine nodded, following Kurt up the stairs, his heart jolting once again at his familiarity with the way to Blaine's room.

He pulled the door to behind them, not quite shutting it, and watched awkwardly as Kurt climbed over to his usual side of the bed, instantly pulling the blanket up to his chin. Blaine perched the opposite side and turned off the light before carefully swinging his legs up onto the mattress so that he was lying right on the edge, his arms lying stiffly by his sides, his back ramrod straight. Although it seemed ridiculous even to himself, he was almost scared to breathe in case he disturbed Kurt in some way. God, they'd shared this bed so many times and yet never had they lain without any point of contact between them.

"For God's sake!" Kurt said eventually, breaking the awkward silence and causing Blaine to tense up further.

"Sorry," Blaine apologised immediately. "I knew this was a bad idea, I'll go sleep on the couch—"

"No, no, no. That's not what I meant." Kurt interrupted. "I just—this is ridiculous. How many times have we shared a goddamn bed?"

Blaine turned his head to look at Kurt, who had rolled over onto his side and was now facing him. They stared each other for a beat too long and then Kurt huffed out a sigh and wriggled closer so that his knees were touching Blaine's legs. Blaine rolled over so that they were face-to-face and Kurt gave him a small smile before gently draping his arm over Blaine's waist.

"Better?" he asked quietly, his warm breath ghosting over Blaine's face. Blaine grinned in the darkness.

"Much." He answered, his eyes burning with the effort of staying open, yet unable to look away from the beautiful face that was finally in front of him.

"Go to sleep then." Kurt said, smiling back at him. God, Blaine had missed that smile so much. "You're safe now. I'm prepared to go all New Yorker on the ass of anyone who tries to get in, okay?"

Blaine's smile stretched impossibly wider. "Night, Kurt."

"Night, Blaine."

Blaine was just falling asleep when he felt the brush of warm lips on his forehead and a soft 'I love you so much' whispered against his skin.


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing Blaine was aware of when he woke up was that he had slept for more than a couple of hours in a row for the first time since he and Kurt had—well, since he and Kurt weren't he and Kurt any more. The second thing was that a pair of all too familiar arms was wrapped around his middle. He turned his head slightly and, sure enough Kurt was still lying next to him, only somehow they'd shifted in the night so that Blaine was the little spoon and Kurt was practically plastered to his back. The third thing he noticed was that Kurt was incredibly hard against his ass and definitely still asleep due to the little snores coming from him.

In the past, Blaine would've enjoyed this fact, and allowed him to sleep a bit longer before kissing him awake to continue what they'd been doing the night before, effectively taking care of Kurt's _little problem_. But, in light of recent events, it felt wrong to lie here and enjoy the feeling of being wanted, so Blaine carefully reached behind him and gently shook Kurt's shoulder.

"Kurt?" he whispered and then tried again a little louder when he got no response. "Kurt?"

"Mmph…" Kurt murmured into Blaine's pyjama top and nuzzled his face into Blaine's neck. He then proceeded to press himself against Blaine's ass properly and groan in a way that should be illegal as he ground into him, trying to get friction.

"Kurt, wake up!" Blaine said loudly, causing Kurt's eyes to flutter open. He looked at Blaine sleepily for a second longer, still rocking against him, and then suddenly his eyes grew extremely wide and panicked as it dawned on him what he was doing. Immediately, he jerked away from Blaine, cheeks flushing red with embarrassment, and rolled over until he was on the opposite side of the mattress, pulling the sheets up over his head.

"No, no, don't be like that," Blaine said hastily, leaning over and tapping Kurt on the shoulder. He flinched away from Blaine's touch. The now familiar sense of hurt washed over Blaine and he sat back on his side of the bed, wrapping his arms round his legs.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to—sorry." He closed his eyes, wondering how he could've fucked up so spectacularly in the few minutes he'd been awake.

Very slowly, Kurt's still-red face poked out from underneath the sheets to look at him.

"It's not your fault," Kurt said, his voice higher than usual and for some reason Blaine's desire to kiss him in that moment doubled. "I was the one getting a little bit too well acquainted with your behind."

"Even your sleepy subconscious loves my ass," Blaine grinned at Kurt.

"Oh, God," Kurt groaned, turning his head momentarily back into the pillow. "This is so embarrassing."

"It's not embarrassing, Kurt. I love that you want me like that." Blaine's mouth snapped shut as soon as he'd said the words, his face looking panic stricken. For a moment Kurt's face remained neutral and Blaine waited for the freak out to start and then Kurt merely looked away from him before rolling out of bed completely and heading into Blaine's ensuite bathroom. Blaine hit himself on the head, groaning as he sank back into the pillows. _You don't get to say that anymore, Blaine, remember? You fucked up and now you have to bear the consequences. _

He lay there silently berating himself for a bit longer and then got up and put on the same clothes as yesterday. Just as he was gelling down the rats nest that was his hair, Kurt's phone buzzed from where it'd been left on the top of Blaine's dresser. Blaine almost went to check it for him, something he would've done without thinking when they were together in order to relay the message, but he stopped himself, realising Kurt might no longer want him to read his texts. That thought stung so he quickly resumed gelling his hair and tried not to think about gun shots or how spectacularly he'd ruined things with the love of his life (a feat that turned out to be impossible).

Another buzz sounded from the dresser, only this time it kept going, buzzing repeatedly and insistently; Kurt had an incoming call. Blaine sat and stared at it in the mirror for a second and then abandoned all attempts at willpower and crossed the room, gingerly picking it up, unsure whether to answer or not. His mind was made up for him when he saw 'Adam' flashing on the screen as the caller ID, causing him to drop the phone instantly as if it suddenly burned him. Of course Kurt was still with him, of course he was! Why wouldn't someone as attractive as Kurt find a proper boyfriend in New York, one who wouldn't break his trust as soon as he was no longer attached to Kurt at the hip? And the worst part was that Blaine had no right to feel this insane mixture of jealously, betrayal and hurt; he'd lost that months ago when he'd hooked up with some random guy off Facebook.

He felt unwelcome tears threatening to escape and pushed his fingertips into the corners of his eyes, as if this would somehow force them away. It was then that he heard the click of the bathroom lock signalling Kurt was finished. Panicking that Kurt would see him in this state, he leapt off the bed and half ran to the door, just as the bathroom door opened.

"Blaine, where did you get that shower gel from? It smells divine…"

"I-ugh-I don't remember," _I need to get out of here. _"I'll, um, I'll be in the kit-kitchen if you, when you're r-ready. You're phone went off." He tried to sound indifferent but knew he'd failed spectacularly when his voice broke on the word 'phone'. Not that he gave himself time to worry, he'd already legged it out the room, closing the door a little too forcefully behind him in his haste, and still not having looked at Kurt once.

Blaine ran down the stairs towards the kitchen, unable to hold the tears in any longer, causing his vision to blur completely. He only made it to the hall before collapsing against the wall, his chest heaving, though whether that was from his lack of breath or his heart breaking into even smaller pieces he wasn't sure. He let himself slide to the floor and wrapped his arms around himself, as if doing so would somehow hold him together, patch up the cracked fragments.

As he buried his head in his arms, a loud bang came from upstairs and suddenly he was back in the choir room again, Mr Schue telling them all to get down, find a place to hide, stay quiet. Only this time, there was something else mixed in with the fear; an overwhelming sense of hopelessness and despair. What did it matter whether he lived or died? His parents would move on, Cooper too, they'd grieve and then realise it was better for their careers in the long run. Kurt would finally be free of him, able to squash his memory into nothing with countless kisses from _Adam_, no longer having to worry about pretending not to hate Blaine. Everything would be so much easier for everyone if he wasn't here, an ever-present burden to their lives. He felt himself whimper and vaguely heard footsteps, presumably Mr Schue, probably to tell him to shut up and stop endangering the others. A hand touched his shoulder and Blaine pressed his face further into his knees. _Go away,_ he thought, _go away, I'm not worth it._

"Blaine?" God, he was even imagining Kurt's voice now. He'd officially gone mad.

"Blaine, sweetheart, what's wrong?" The Kurt-voice asked again, and _fuck_, it sounded so soft and concerned and Blaine couldn't take it. He'd never get to hear Kurt's voice talk to him like that ever again.

There was a soft sigh and then he felt the person sit next to him, awkwardly in the small space between the stairs and his father's office door so that they were pressed hip to hip.

"Sweetheart, don't cry," The Kurt-voice tried again and Blaine knew he was going to shatter completely if he had to hear it again. Why wouldn't they leave him alone? Or, better yet, why couldn't the person with the gun find him already, end this pain for good? His eyes snapped open, looking around frantically for any sign of the gun, he had to find where it was, he had to aggravate them and—

His eyes met the blue ones next to him, shining with worry and— was that fear? Was Kurt scared of him?

"I'm s-sorry," He sobbed, guilt engulfing him. "G-god, Kurt, I-I'm so s-sorry,"

K

so s-sorry,"-I' him?

orriedm to him, staring at him ny sign of a gun, he had to find where it was, he had to aggrivate d at Kurt tilted his head to one side, surveying Blaine with a surprised expression, as if that was the last thing he'd expected Blaine to say. He felt like he'd disappointed him again in some way.

"S-sorry," He tried again, his voice barely a whisper now. Kurt continued to watch him cautiously. He sucked in a shuddering breath and looked away, staring at the wall and waiting for Kurt to get up and leave.

"Blaine," Kurt began carefully. "Would you like to come back to mine for lunch?"

Blaine froze, certain he'd heard wrong or maybe made it up in his head, knowing him that was the more likely explanation.

"Finn's coming too and Carol was going to put something together. It'll probably just be sandwiches and salad, but if you'd like to come, I'm sure they'd all be thrilled to see you."

Blaine looked at Kurt this time, watching his mouth move so he could be certain he wasn't imagining things.

"How d-do you always manage t-to do that?" Blaine asked, his head falling back against the wall with a loud thunk. "You always zig when a think you're about to zag…"

Kurt snorted next to him. "Clearly, I'm just special." Blaine nodded, not joking in the slightest when he silently agreed. "So you'll come back with me?"

"I-yeah, yeah ok." Kurt smiled softly and placed his hand over Blaine's still-trembling one on the floor. Blaine instantly felt calmer. He squeezed Blaine's fingers slightly and then stood up, brushing off invisible dust from his tight jeans.

"Well, I'll go grab my coat and we'll make a move," He said, walking over to the closet. "By the way, Adam and I aren't together anymore. We've been just friends for a while." He said it so casually, but the words seemed to unclog something in Blaine and he exhaled in what felt like relief.

"W-what?" He asked, trying to pretend Kurt's statement hadn't affected him so much. Kurt merely raised an eyebrow at him, smirking slightly as he tossed Blaine his coat. Blaine tensed momentarily at being found out but then Kurt touched his back lightly as he walked passed him out the door and Blaine sagged in relief, rolling his eyes when Kurt glanced back over his shoulder.

The ride over to Kurt's house was quiet but comfortable, Kurt driving as Blaine tried to wipe the evidence of his slight breakdown off his face. They parked outside the familiar two-storey house and Blaine glanced in the little mirror one last time, brushing in vain at his slightly red, puffy eyes which gave away the fact he'd been crying, regardless of how well he'd wiped the tear tracks themselves form his cheeks.

"I think you're fighting a losing battle there." Kurt said teasingly. Blaine snorted but it still sounded choked off and weird. "Come on," He said more quietly, "No one'll care."

Blaine nodded and climbed out of the navigator, joining Kurt round the front of the car so they could walk up to the door together. It opened before they even got there to reveal a beaming Carol, slightly flustered-looking with a pink apron tied around her. She enveloped him in a big hug as soon as he reached the doorstep.

"Oh, sweetheart, it's so good to see you. We were all so worried when we heard. Kurt here was beside himself." Blaine looked timidly over at Kurt who smiled softly at him and then gestured for Blaine to go on in. Blaine smiled as he took in the familiar little hall and breathed in the smell he associated with Kurt's house, the one of the places where he felt most at home, second only to Kurt's arms.


	3. Chapter 3

Blaine half expected Burt to strangle him or something when he followed Kurt into the kitchen (even Burt wouldn't be so insensitive as to get his shotgun out in light of recent events). Sure, he'd bought Blaine a plane ticket to New York at Christmas and he knew they'd hung out when Kurt was back in Lima for Mr Schue's disaster of a wedding, but he was still waiting for the man to realise that he didn't deserve to be around Kurt anymore and kick him out the house. Plus, Burt must have been very much aware of the fact that Kurt stayed over at Blaine's house last night without parental supervision.

Thankfully, Burt didn't kill him and instead greeted him as Carol had; with a hug. He stiffened instinctively at the touch, like he does with anyone who isn't Kurt, but then relaxed into it. When he pulled back, he patted Blaine on the shoulder once and then turned back to Carol who was putting some sort of dressing on a salad.

"Kurt, would you mind going to get Finn? Lunch is ready." Carol asked over her shoulder.

"Sure. Come on, Blaine." Kurt led him out of the kitchen, walking close enough to Blaine that their arms brushed and he doesn't try to interlace their hands once. Finn, unsurprisingly, was in the living room playing Call of Duty, swearing under his breath as he fired at the screen.

"Hey Finn," Kurt said cheerily, walking over to him and snatching the controller out of his hands. "Lunch is ready."

"Kurt!" Finn shouted before proceeding to wrestle Kurt into a hug. "I didn't know you were coming home!"

"Yeah, well, after what happened at McKinley…"

It was then that Finn noticed Blaine a few paces behind Kurt.

"Oh, hey dude," He greeted, nodding awkwardly at him. Blaine smiled back. "So are you and Kurt back together or what?" Blaine grimaced; tact was not a quality Finn possessed.

"Finn!" Kurt rolled his eyes. "We're just _friends_. Friends can hang out, you know."

Finn's head tilted to one side and he squinted his eyes as he looked slowly between them.

"What?" Kurt asked eventually, raising his eyebrows at his stepbrother.

"Sorry dude, it's just, like it's weird…It's weird thinking of you and Blaine as anything but you and Blaine, you know? Like a couple…"

"Yes, well, get used to it." Kurt said indulgently, rolling his eyes again and walking back into the kitchen. Blaine ignored the sharp sting his words caused. _Get used to it_; that sounded permanent. But then, what else had he been expecting? Kurt wasn't going to magically forgive and trust him again because of a stupid shooting at McKinley and Blaine would never expect him to.

Finn turned off his game and followed Blaine into the kitchen where everyone else had already gathered round the table. Blaine hovered awkwardly, unsure where to sit until Kurt patted the seat next to him. Carol began passing various dishes around and Blaine felt himself relax with the familiar company as they exchanged idle chatter. The food was as delicious as usual and Blaine realised that he'd missed this, too; just being around the Hudson-Hummels and being included in their family. He caught Kurt watching him out of his peripheral vision and turned his head to look at him.

"What?" he mouthed, one side of his mouth quirking upwards in a smile. Kurt returned his smile and shrugged, turning his attention back to Burt's story about a particularly rude customer he had served the other day.

"Dad, it's ok if Blaine stays over, right?" Kurt asked after swallowing a mouthful of salad. Blaine looked up again, surprised. Kurt didn't mind him staying the night, _wanted _him to even?

He braced himself, glancing at Burt warily, but Burt's eyes were fixed on Kurt. After a beat he shrugged.

"Sure, that's fine. It'll do you good to have some company, kid, after what you went through the other day." Blaine smiled gratefully at him.

"Thank you B-Sir." He corrected himself quickly, unsure whether the offer to call Mr Hummel Burt had been revoked or not.

"You can call me Burt, Blaine. How many times have we been through this?"

"I-I just thought—because of—when I…" Blaine trailed off and saw Kurt squirming awkwardly in his seat next to him.

"Burt's perfectly fine." Burt said in an oddly steely tone that left no room for argument. Blaine nodded dumbly and returned his eyes to his plate. The awkward silence was broken as Finn seemed to catch up with the conversation.

"Wait, how come Blaine's allowed to stay over when I couldn't have Laura from the grocery store?" He asked, sounding genuinely outraged.

"Because Blaine and I are just friends, you idiot," Kurt snapped, glaring at his brother. "From what I heard Laura wasn't interested in _sleeping _here."

"So it's just like when Puck stays over for gaming marathons?" Finn asked slowly.

"_Yes._" Kurt replied a little too forcefully.

"So he'll just be sleeping on the floor?"

If looks could kill, Finn would be dead on the floor from the glare Kurt shot him. Burt watched the scene amusedly, one eyebrow quirked at the question.

"Y-yeah, I will." Blaine responded when Kurt didn't answer. Kurt sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Blaine will be sleeping wherever he feels comfortable because, in case you've forgotten, he almost _died _the other day. Is that alright with you, Finn?"

"Chill, dude, I was only asking." Finn shrugged, a piece of lettuce falling off his raised fork into his lap. Kurt wrinkled his nose but thankfully didn't comment. Carol carefully manoeuvred the conversation back to the weather and the rest of lunch passed in a blessedly uneventful manner, even if Blaine remained a little too quiet.

After they were done, Burt suggested they watch a movie as it was raining out and no one felt like doing anything more active. They traipsed into the sitting room and Blaine shifted awkwardly in the doorway before Kurt patted the sofa next to him. Burt and Carol took the loveseat (his and Kurt's old place) and Finn opted for sprawling on the floor rather than sitting in the remaining chair. Blaine carefully sat down as far away from Kurt as the sofa would allow. Yes, last night Kurt had held him close, but that was only because he'd been so upset, it didn't mean they were back to cuddling during movies. But after Kurt had got up to put the DVD into the machine, he sat back down closer to Blaine. Not close enough to touch, but enough to make Blaine swear he could feel the heat radiating off him.

As the movie started playing and the opening fight sequence commenced, Blaine forced himself to look at the TV and not Kurt's face illuminated by the glow of the screen, giving it an almost angelic quality. He managed to follow the story but it required so much concentration to keep his mind on the film, his brain hurt.

"Could you be thinking any more loudly?" Kurt's warm breath ghosted over his cheek as he leaned in to whisper in his ear.

"Sorry," he whispered back, still resolutely not looking at Kurt. A few more minutes passed before Kurt spoke again, his voice still hushed.

"Seriously, those frown lines are gonna stick…" Blaine grinned, and pressed a hand to his forehead as if to actually smooth the creases out.

"Dork." Kurt muttered and this time Blaine couldn't help it, he turned his head to look at Kurt's smile. Suddenly the protagonist fired at the bad guy in the movie, the gunshot sound making Blaine jump violently and cower backwards into the sofa. Everyone's eyes were instantly on him and he felt his cheeks redden in embarrassment. Carol looked at him sadly and then turned back to the screen, apparently thinking better of saying something, and after a second Burt and Finn followed suit.

Blaine exhaled shakily, willing his heartbeat to slow down, and then Kurt's fingers found his in the dark. He worried momentarily about how clammy his hand was as Kurt slowly flipped it over and placed his own on top so that they were palm to palm, their fingers laced together. He began tracing random patterns over Blaine's knuckles in a manner he found deeply soothing. He sank back slowly into the cushions, Kurt humming approvingly when he noticed Blaine's body relaxing again. The next thing he knew, Kurt was swinging his legs up and tucking them underneath himself, turning his body slightly so that he could lean into Blaine. He smiled at Blaine shyly before dropping his head on Blaine's shoulder and turning back to the TV.

Blaine watched the rest of the movie feeling much more relaxed, not even flinching when more bullets ricocheted off various buildings. In fact, he became so lethargic that at some point towards the end, he felt his eyelids begin to droop and the screen blur.

The next thing he was aware of was that someone had opened the curtains again (probably Carol) and the movie had presumably ended as someone was now watching a baseball game (probably Burt). He thought for a second the room had flipped over but then realised that he was now lying on his side, stretched out lengthways on the couch. Huh. When had that happened? He rolled over slowly, yawning, and found himself face to face with a sleepy looking Kurt, who smiled when he saw Blaine was awake.

"Hey," He said softly, his eyelashes fluttering as he woke up properly.

"Hi," Blaine replied with a smile of his own.

Someone cleared their throat loudly behind them and Kurt seemed to suddenly realise where they were, struggling to sit up as his eyes widened. This proved incredibly difficult in the tiny space between Blaine and the back of the couch. After finally managing it on his third attempt, he extricated his legs from where they were tangled with Blaine's (and, seriously, _when _had that happened?) and then proceeded to try and clamber over Blaine, awkwardly attempting not to touch him.

"Budge over," He muttered as he sat on Blaine's legs and then finally managed to get up completely. Blaine yawned loudly and watched appreciatively as Kurt's shirt rode up again as he stretched. And then he noticed Burt, beer in one hand, remote in the other, watching him with a strange expression on his face. He immediately scrambled up, face flushing, feeling very much like a little kid being caught stealing a biscuit before dinner.

"What time is it?" Kurt asked, his voice almost too even.

"Half four," Burt replied, eyebrows raised.

"Wow, ok, I was completely out of it there." His tone was even more deliberately calm.

"You both were." Burt agreed pointedly.

"Yeah, well, we didn't get much sleep last night." Kurt apparently didn't notice how that sounded to a parent, but Blaine did and he felt his cheeks redden further. Thankfully, Burt chose not to comment.

"We'll be in my room if you want us. Give us a shout when dinner's ready." Kurt walked out the room, headed to the basement, and it took Blaine a moment to realise he was meant to follow. He couldn't be certain but he thought he heard Burt mutter something that sounded suspiciously like "Friends my ass" as he closed the door behind him. Regardless, he was grinning like an idiot as he descended the stairs to Kurt's room.


	4. Chapter 4

The rest of the afternoon and then the evening passed in a comfortable haze of happiness for Blaine. He and Kurt scanned the latest issue of Vogue, sprawled out on his bed next to each other; they danced along cheesily to Kurt's forever expanding music collection; they shared a vegetarian pizza for dinner ("No, Blaine, we cannot get extra cheese, some of us want to keep our waistline"); and played various board games with the rest of the family. This culminated in all of them laughing hysterically when, during a particularly competitive game of Pictionary, Finn's attempt at drawing a television looked more like some kind of giant squid.

"That isn't even rectangular!" Kurt snorted, tilting his head to see if it looked any less ridiculous from a different angle. It didn't.

"Yeah, well, it was hard to capture on paper, man." Finn defended himself.

"I'm sorry but how can someone not draw a box-shape with a screen?"

"Kid, I have to hand it to you, you're worse than me at this game." Burt interjected, shaking his head fondly.

"If you turn it upside down it sort of looks like a—"

"It looks like a demented squid, Finn!" It was Blaine's turn to snort at Kurt's comment; it definitely had a marine-animal-ish quality to it.

"Well, I'm going to call it a night and go marvel at the incredible artist I have for a son." Carol laughed, getting up off the couch and picking up their empty plates.

"Shut up!" Finn retorted, though he, too, was grinning as he followed his mom out the room. Burt stood up too and rubbed his hands together.

"I'm gonna hit the sack too," He said, putting the discarded game on the coffee table. "Do you have everything you need, Blaine? Toothbrush? Pyjamas?"

"He can use the spare one and borrow a pair of mine." Kurt answered for him, hugging his dad goodnight.

"Shall I go grab Blaine the spare blanket? The air mattress is in the under-stair closet…"

Kurt gave his dad one of his 'bitch, please' stares and Burt chuckled, raising his hands defensively.

"Ok, ok, I was only kidding. See you in the morning." He headed up the stairs but couldn't resist turning around and adding, "Try to keep the noise down,"

Blaine tensed on instinct at the obviously suggestive comment but Kurt merely rolled his eyes and pulled Blaine down the stairs. He found Blaine a pair of pyjamas in his bottom drawer (the pair that Blaine always wore when he hadn't brought his own for whatever reason) and then disappeared into the ensuite to do his night time skincare ritual.

Blaine inhaled deeply as he pulled the top over his head, breathing in the smell of detergent and something so unmistakably _Kurt_. He sat down on the bed and smoothed his hands over the top of the duvet. Less than 24 hours ago he'd been terrified and alone in his house with just his thoughts for company and then Kurt had turned up and made it all better; swept in and saved him, like he always did. Because Kurt had saved him. No matter how many times Kurt tried to convince him it was the other way round and that it was he, Kurt, who had been struggling with bullying and self-acceptance, who felt lonely and isolated from his friends, Blaine knew better. Sure, Blaine probably had been a positive influence on Kurt's life, at least back then, but it was Blaine who had actually needed saving, even if he didn't know it at the time. In fact, it was his own lack of comprehension that he hadn't been truly happy, that his smiles were becoming steadily more and more fake, that the boy who seemingly had it all together was actually slowly crumbling from the inside out, it was for that exact reason that Kurt had saved him. His life had been amazing before Kurt came along, but that didn't mean he'd been truly living it.

The bathroom door opening snapped Blaine out of his thoughts and he quickly grabbed the spare toothbrush and walked passed Kurt to brush his teeth. When he returned, Kurt was already in bed on his usual side, the thought causing Blaine's stomach to jolt stupidly. _Get a grip, Blaine, _he reprimanded himself, sliding in next to Kurt, _you're just friends now_.

He reached over to turn the lamp on the bedside table off and when he turned back, Kurt had moved closer and snuggled into his side, sighing contentedly in the darkness. Blaine lay there silently, feeling his breathing synching with Kurt's and just when he thought he was asleep, he heard Kurt's murmur of "Night, honey,"

Blaine didn't answer, just nuzzled closer to Kurt, and fell asleep moments later.

Kurt woke suddenly, his eyes opening as the mattress underneath him shook weirdly. He lay there, confused, until a tiny whimper broke the silence. He rolled over slowly and felt his chest tighten when he took in the sight in front of him. Blaine was curled into a ball, his legs tucked into his chest and lying so far over on the other side of the bed that he was half hanging off it. He was clearly trying his hardest to muffle the gut-wrenching sobs coming out of him, so much so that he was physically shaking with the effort, which explained why the bed was shaking.

Kurt didn't even think before shifting himself closer and wrapping himself around Blaine's body which seemed even smaller than usual in his curled-in state. He stiffened instantly, his red eyes opening in surprise and then…fear?

"S-sorry!" His voice sounded strangled, and he was still crying as he spoke. "I-I d-didn't mean t-to wake y-you up."

"What's wrong?" Kurt asked softly, ignoring Blaine's apology and sliding one hand up and down his side soothingly.

"I-I just…nightmare…" Blaine mumbled.

"You had a nightmare?"

"Just a s-stupid d-dream about—about the sh-shooting…" He dissolved into more sobs and Kurt clutched him tighter.

"That doesn't sound stupid to me. Why didn't you wake me?"

"Y-You don't want—you shouldn't have t-to deal with m-me." Blaine muttered so quietly that if Kurt hadn't have been so close he wouldn't have heard him.

"That's ridiculous, Blaine."

"S'not. Y-you don't deserve to g-get your sleep disturbed just 'cause—just 'cause I'm being st-stupid." He suddenly seemed to realise something and struggled out of Kurt's arms, hanging further off the bed in his attempt to move away and fumbling until he fell off completely with a painful-sounding thump. "I-I w-woke you anyway. G-God, I'm s-so sorry, Kurt. I-I'm such a f-fucking nuisance. I'll go sleep on the c-couch. I'm s-sorry, I'll—"

As Blaine talked himself into a frenzy, somehow managing to stumble to his feet and start shakily moving to the door, swaying slightly as if he felt dizzy, Kurt swiftly got off the bed and managed to grab his arm before he made it too far. He spun him round so that they were face to face.

"Blaine Anderson, you listen to me right now!" He said, his voice rising to a dangerously possibly-Burt-waking level. "You could never, ever be a nuisance. Do you hear me?" Blaine only dropped his head further, his whole body sagging as if he wished nothing more than to sink into Kurt's carpet and never be found. He probably did.

"No." Kurt continued, grabbing Blaine's face and forcing him to look into his eyes. "No, you listen to me. Don't you ever worry about confiding in me, Blaine, don't you dare. If you're hurting I want to know about it because I love you and I want to do everything in my damn power to make it better, ok?"

Blaine was suddenly frozen, seemingly overwhelmed.

"Ugh," Kurt let out a frustrated groan. "Come here, you stupid, self-depricating, _deluded _person." He pulled Blaine to him, more to support him as his legs gave out than to comfort him. "Do you even have any idea what a fucking incredible, flawless person you are? You're so fucking precious, I just-" Words seemed to fail him and he just made a noise in the back of his throat to voice his emotions.

Blaine began shaking his head furiously.

"You are, you are, you are," Kurt repeated it like a mantra, Blaine clutching onto him like a lifeline.

"N-No, I—"

"You messed up, Blaine, you're human. You just—you just messed up, that's all. And I forgive you." Blaine tensed. Kurt hadn't meant to say it but as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew they were true; they had been for a while.

"W-What?" Blaine asked, his voice so painfully hopeful that Kurt just wanted to wrap himself around him and never let go.

"I forgive you," Kurt whispered, the words oddly comforting to his own ears. Blaine's body seemed to completely give up on him then, his whole torso leaning into Kurt with defeat, and Kurt staggered backwards until his knees hit the bed frame. He sat them down carefully and pulled Blaine onto his lap, cushioning his head on his chest so that his ear was over Kurt's heart, just the way Blaine liked it. Blaine was still sniffling but he had stopped crying by now.

"At this rate I'm gonna be forced to think you're putting on the tears just to get cuddles," Kurt commented lightly, bending his head down to kiss Blaine on the nose.

"If-If only I was that smart." Blaine's voice still sounded watery, but at least he was joking with him.

"Yeah, yeah. I might believe the whole innocent act if I didn't have it on good authority that you're a complete cuddle whore who'll say anything to get a free hug." Blaine laughed softly and, God, if that wasn't the best sound in the whole entire world. He yawned and Kurt slowly laid them both down, never once letting go of Blaine.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked eventually, breaking the peaceful quiet that had fallen between them.

"What?"

"The nightmare. Would you like to talk about it?"

"Oh, um, not right now. Maybe in the morning?"

"Whenever you want to."

There was a slight pause before Blaine spoke again.

"K-Kurt?"

"Yeah, honey?"

"Th-thank you."

Kurt kissed the top of his head as he began to sniffle quietly again. Why was he so damn _precious_?

"Shhh, it's ok, honey, you're ok. I forgive you. I forgive you, Blaine, it's ok, I forgive you," He kept repeating it as Blaine slowly relaxed in his arms and drifted to sleep. He realised how indescribably nice it felt, after months of internal battles, that it was solely for Blaine's benefit; Blaine was now the only one who needed convincing.


	5. Chapter 5

When Blaine awoke mid-morning, he instantly noticed the lack of warmth next to him and internally panicked for a moment until he registered the sound of running water coming from the bathroom; Kurt hadn't come to his senses and abandoned him, he was merely showering. He silently cursed his own neediness as his heart rate slowly returned to normal. _You're being ridiculous, Blaine,_ he thought to himself sternly, _this is Kurt we're talking about, he'd never abandon you with no warning. He forgives you now, remember? _

Blaine shivered at the word 'forgive'; his whole being had been waiting for Kurt to say that for so long now, without even consciously realising it. Now that he had, it was like he was gulping in a lungful of fresh air after six months of having his head being held under water, his friends telling him to just get over it and breathe already, none of them fully understanding how impossible that was for him. Blaine could honestly say he'd never felt more relieved in his life.

He grinned at the ceiling, well aware he looked like an absolute idiot, but not able to find it in himself to care (the love of his life had forgiven him for God's sake!). Then, suddenly, the quiet was broken by Kurt's phone buzzing on his nightstand, just like yesterday morning. Blaine turned his head to the side on the pillow, eyes narrowing as he pondered what to do. Even though he knew he had no right to even look who was calling, let alone actually answer it, a hot, prickly sensation was pooling in his stomach and he carefully stretched out his arm to pick the iPhone up. This time, he wasn't surprised to see Adam's name flashing across the screen, in fact, he felt weirdly pleased as the sensation in his stomach worsened, a fiery wave that was washing over him. Without thinking about it too much, and before he could chicken out, Blaine delicately touched 'answer' and, heart pounding in his throat, pressed the phone to his ear.

"Hello?" he said, fixing his voice so as to sound completely nonchalant, like he wasn't internally debating whether or not to just hang up. Every cell in Blaine's body was screaming at him that this was a bad idea, but the fiery sensation was completely drowning out his intuition.

"Kurt?" The first thing Blaine noticed was how British the voice at the other end sounded. Yes, Kurt had told him that Adam came from Essex in the UK, but damn it, Blaine was only now appreciating just how much of an advantage that gave him. Blaine might hate the guy's guts, but he had to admit his voice was the sexiest fucking thing he'd ever heard. Clearly, he'd been wrong all this time; there was absolutely no competition. This guy made Blaine look about as appealing as Homeless Brett, Kurt would never in a million years choose him.

"Um, no, it's—it's Blaine actually." He replied, his confidence deflating completely.

"Ah, so you're _Blaine_," Adam didn't sound annoyed or anything, it was more just polite recognition, but for some reason the fact that Kurt had at least mentioned him to this guy spurred him on, and he suddenly felt an intense feeling of possessiveness.

"Yeah, I am." He was aware he sounded distant verging on rude, but he couldn't make himself stop. "Do you want me to take a message or something?"

"Where's Kurt?" It was merely an innocent, curious question but that goddamn accent was annoying Blaine.

"He's in the shower right now." Blaine answered truthfully, but couldn't resist adding, "He hasn't had one since he arrived in Ohio and, well, you know how he hates to stay _dirty._" He emphasised the last word, vaguely mindful of the fact he sounded like Sebastian. Adam chuckled down the line, causing Blaine's blood to boil.

"Yeah, ok, well would you mind telling him that I called? I'm sure I'll speak to him later if he's not too busy…"

"Oh, I'm sure he'll be _very busy_," God, what was he doing? Had he officially gone insane? "But I'll tell him. I'd better go now, I think I just heard the shower turning off. I'd better not keep him waiting."

Adam laughed again, clearly finding something Blaine said amusing which irritated Blaine immensely; he was meant to be jealous of him!

"Of course, of course. Nice talking to you Blaine," Adam said in his stupid smarmy accent and ended the call, leaving Blaine fuming though he didn't know why. Adam had been nothing but pleasant and polite, even though Blaine had clearly been a git.

He heard the bathroom door opening and hastily replaced the phone on the bed-side table, dropping back against the pillows just as Kurt came in, already dressed in his favourite pair of skinny jeans. Blaine tried (and instantly failed) not to stare at his bare chest as he rummaged through his wardrobe and pulled out a t-shirt with a long zip down it and a denim jacket which he quickly put on. When he turned round, he saw that Blaine's eyes were open.

"Oh, you're awake. Sorry I took so long in the shower. I haven't washed probably since flying and you know how disgusting air travel makes me feel." Blaine nodded, feeling guilty as he remembered his comment to Adam a minute ago. He climbed out of bed and gathered up his clothes from yesterday, smiling slightly when he realised Kurt had laid out clean underwear for him to borrow. Kurt patted his arm as he walked passed him to the bathroom and Blaine gave in to his conscience, turning around to face Kurt in the doorway.

"Um, Adam called. I answered your phone, I hope you don't mind, I just thought—" He trailed off as he realised he hadn't been thinking at all. "Anyway, um, he said to let you know and he'd try again later."

Kurt had his head tilted to one side, studying him intently. "OK," he said eventually, folding his arms across his chest. "Thanks for letting me know."

"I—yeah, sure." Blaine quickly went into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him before he could say something he'd regret.

He turned the shower on, moving the dial up so that it was hotter than necessary, enjoying the way it burned his slightly cold skin when he stepped in. He took more time than necessary gelling his hair down afterwards, viciously tugging any wayward curls into place, and got dressed slowly before leaving the bathroom. He knew instantly something was wrong before he even saw Kurt perched on the edge of the bed, his arms folded across his chest, his eyes glinting as waves of anger rolled off of him.

"So I just rang Adam back." Kurt's voice was falsely calm. Oh, crap.

"Y-You did?" Blaine asked, fighting to keep his voice even.

"Yeah, I did." Kurt's eyebrows were inching upwards, his fingers clenching into little fists.

"Uh, cool?" He was still going for casual but it definitely failed.

"He seemed to think we were back together or something." Shit, shit, shit!

"Really?"

"Oh cut the crap, Blaine! Apparently you made it sound like we'd spent the last twenty-four hours having sex!"

"I—no, I-I didn't say that…"

"No, but you implied it, didn't you?"

"You said the two of you weren't going out anymore!" Blaine felt his voice rising despite himself.

"And we're not. That doesn't give you the right to make him think I'd fallen right back into your arms!"

"I didn't—what's it to him who you are or aren't seeing?"

"This isn't about Adam, Blaine! It's about the fact that you're either completely deluded about the last few days or you're deliberately being a jerk! I don't care whether you say it to Adam or-or Rachel for God's sake, I don't want you implying things that are completely untrue,"

"'Completely untrue', huh? So we didn't cuddle all night? So you flew back to Ohio on a whim, did you?"

Kurt leapt off the bed and practically snarled his next words.

"We're not back together, Blaine!"

All the anger drained from Blaine's body. "I-I know that, I didn't—"

"Well that's not what it sounds like!" Kurt felt the emotions he'd repressed since he and Blaine broke up surging to the surface. "You hurt me really bad and I don't want to—"He cut himself off before the lie came out, snapping his jaw shut with painful force. Because it was a lie; of course he really wanted to get back together with Blaine, that itself was the problem. He was meant to hate him, to move on with someone else, someone perfect like Adam, and yet he didn't. He physically _couldn't_. And sometimes he desperately wanted to blame Blaine for that, but it wasn't his fault, not really. It was himself he hated for being in this situation; for being so young and needy, so angry all the time, so utterly unable to let go, and so, so in love. Because despite everything, he was still in love with Blaine and no matter what, he knew that he always would be.

Blaine blinked at him, eyes wide and shining with unshed tears. His whole body swayed backwards slightly as he inhaled deeply and then he was running up the stairs. Kurt flinched at his sudden departure and it took his brain a second to process what was happening. Blaine still thought Kurt was mad at him, he hadn't heard Kurt's thoughts, he didn't know that Kurt still loved him, and right now he was running out the house, the front door slamming behind him, thinking Kurt never wanted to see him ever again.

Kurt vaulted up the stairs after him, throwing on the first pair of shoes he saw (his dad's work shoes that he usually wouldn't be seen _dead_ in) and sprinting out the door as Burt walked out the kitchen looking thoroughly confused.

"Kurt, what the…?" Was all Kurt heard before the door slammed behind him, too. He ran over his short drive and skidded to a stop on the road, frantically looking left and right to see which way Blaine had gone. But the street was completely empty.

"Blaine!" Kurt yelled, panic building inside him even though, logically, he knew Blaine couldn't have gotten far as he didn't have his car with him. Breathing hard, Kurt ran back to his Navigator and fumbled with his keys, throwing himself into the driver's seat and quickly pulling off the driveway. Which direction would Blaine have gone?

He decided to turn left, as if he was driving to Blaine's house. It was a good half an hour drive, but Blaine would be the sort of idiot to try and walk rather than risk inconveniencing someone else by phoning them to pick him up. He scanned the sidewalk, nearly running over a neighbour's cat he was so preoccupied, but there was no sign of him.

After a while, Kurt realised his efforts were futile; Blaine couldn't have walked this far in such a short space of time, he hadn't even had that much of a head start. Tears were falling down his own cheeks now and he absently brushed them away as he turned the car around, defeated, and headed back home. As his vision blurred, all he could see was Blaine's heartbroken face in front of him. What the hell had he done?


	6. Chapter 6

As the front door slammed, Burt stood up from where he'd been sat in the living room, repeatedly ringing Kurt's answer but to no avail. He hurried out into the hall before Kurt could make it to his room.

"You gonna tell me what the hell's going on?" He demanded but Kurt ignored him, descending the steps to the basement and shutting the door in Burt's face. Obviously, he just opened it and followed Kurt inside, watching in bewilderment as his son threw himself, face down, onto the bed.

"Kurt, what's going on, buddy? You left in a right hurry and there better be a good excuse as to why you haven't been answering your phone…" Burt tried again, fidgeting with the phone still in his hand. Kurt didn't answer and instead buried his face further into his pillow. This wasn't new behaviour to Burt; Kurt had always been melodramatic and Burt had therefore been victim to quite a few hissy fits and tantrums over the years. Though, now that Burt thought about it, he hadn't been subjected to one since that whole business with Finn when he and Carol had first got together.

"Seriously, Kurt, I'm not a freakin' mind reader…you're going to have to give me something to work with here…" There was still no answer for a few seconds and then a muffled-sounding sob came from where Kurt's face was still pressed into his pillow. Burt might not know what the hell was going on, but if Kurt was upset he was damn well going to get to the bottom of it.

"Kurt…" He said, his voice quieter, softer as he sat next to Kurt on the bed, patting his back somewhat awkwardly. "Ok, here's a wild guess…does Blaine have something to do with this?"

Kurt still refused to so much as look as his dad, let alone answer, but another loud sob choked its way out and that was all the confirmation Burt needed.

"Right, so what happened with Blaine then?" Burt sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Did he—has he done something—you know—that hurt you again…?" he asked awkwardly, unsure how to bring up the subject of Blaine cheating. It still seemed so out of character and, well, _wrong_ to Burt.

Kurt rolled over at that, looking up at his father with puffy, red-ringed eyes.

"N-no," He whispered, so quietly that Burt had to lean in to hear it. "It-It was me that hurt _him_."

"Ok…" Burt said slowly, at a loss as to what Kurt could've done that would've hurt Blaine. Then it hit him. "Does this have something to do with that other guy you were seeing? The British one?"

"His name is Adam, dad. And no—not exactly…well, maybe kind of but that's not why Blaine's upset."

"Wait, where is Blaine?" Burt asked and realised too late that that was the wrong thing to say as Kurt dissolved into more sobs again. It took Burt several more minutes to calm him down.

"He—he left after—God, dad, he thinks I hate him. And I—I tried to look for him but I couldn't find him nearby and he—he couldn't have gone that far but I couldn't—"

"OK, look, here's what we're going to do." Burt cut across Kurt's rambling, his voice calm yet forceful. "I'm going to take my truck and go look for him, ok? Like you said, he can't have gone far. You're going to stay here and calm down. Clean yourself up a bit with your fancy creams and crap because when I bring Blaine back, I'm sure you'll want to look presentable."

"Th—Thanks, dad." Kurt whispered, a sense of relief and comfort spreading through him that only a parent could provide. That incomparable feeling that everything was going to be alright, that it would all be taken care of, that he was loved.

"Oh and when we get back, you two are gonna sit down somewhere and have a darn good talk because I don't know what happened, but it sounds to me like both of you need to get your heads out of your asses and tell each other how you feel already."

"Ok," Kurt agreed, his voice small. "Dad?"

"Yeah, bud?" Burt paused in the doorway, fishing his keys out of his pocket.

"I'm scared." Kurt didn't offer any more than that, but still Burt understood.

"Love is scary, Kurt. But that doesn't mean it isn't worth it in the end." With that, he closed the door behind him, leaving Kurt on the bed, mind made up as to what he needed to do.

Blaine got up from where he'd spent the last forty-five minutes huddled behind the hedgerow of the park down the road next to the one leading from Kurt's house and looked around, blinking in the sunlight. He hadn't cried after the initial tears that always accompanied that stinging sense of hurt or rejection. To be honest, after the last few days, he was probably all cried out. _God, I'm so pathetic,_ he thought bitterly as he brushed himself down.

He didn't blame Kurt for how he'd reacted; to be honest, he probably would've reacted in the same way had their roles been reversed. _But they're not, are they Blaine? You're the one who couldn't handle the long distance thing for a few fucking months. You're the one who's now lost him forever. You're the one he hates. _

He'd seriously deluded himself into thinking Kurt had forgiven him, that they were finding their way back to each other. He snorted as he went to sit on one of the swings, staring at his shoes as they scuffed against the dirt, flicking bits up, ruining the smooth surface. God, he didn't even _deserve_ to be forgiven and deep down he'd known that all along, but still he'd allowed himself to get carried away, to convince himself that there was some possible way to claw everything he'd lost back to him.

He reached into his pocket to check the time and then realised that he'd left this phone at Kurt's. He briefly considered going back for it, but quickly thought better of it. Kurt wouldn't want to see his face ever again, let alone right now, after what he'd done earlier. Nicely done, Blaine, you've screwed up with the love of your life again.

Because Blaine kept screwing up; even when he tried hard not to and that was the problem wasn't it? No matter what he did, no matter what his intentions, he always fucked everything up, every single time. Well, he wouldn't do it again. He'd officially give up. It wasn't like there were many people left to mess up with anyway; his parents still paid for Blaine's food and school supplies, but he'd lost any respect they'd had for him the day he'd come out (Blaine wasn't stupid, he knew why they now spent so much time at work, unable to properly look him in the eye); it wasn't like he really spoke with the Warblers anymore, not since Hunter had taken over at any rate; and Carol and Burt would never want to see him again, neither would Finn—they were probably all glad he was out of Kurt's life for good. In fact, now that Blaine thought about it, the only friends he had left were the rest of Glee Club so all he'd need to do was drop out of that and then he wouldn't be able to hurt anyone ever again. He could even convince his parents to let him be home-schooled again if necessary, like he had been after the whole Sadie Hawkins incident.

Blaine felt tears pooling in his eyes again as he remembered how isolated he'd felt that year, away from everyone and left to remember how it'd felt to be beaten senseless and powerless to do anything about it. He clenched his hands into fists around the chains of the swing, the metal hurting the sensitive skin of his palm, and forced the tears away. No, he deserved to be cut off from everyone; he'd brought it on himself and he wasn't allowed to fucking blubber about it.

"You're not allowed to cry," He murmured forcefully, as if the words would someone stop the aching sensation in the back of his throat.

"Bullshit. You're allowed to cry as much as you want to." The familiar voice made Blaine look up and he almost fell off the swing when he saw Burt Hummel stood across from him, arms folded across his chest. For a second, Blaine felt a weird sense of hope swell up inside of him, but he quickly pushed it down, dropping his gaze and shaking his head slowly.

"You left your phone." Burt said, holding it out in front of him for Blaine to take. Blaine did so reluctantly, who would he have to text anyway once he'd quit Glee? "I found it on the coffee table. You left in quite the hurry, didn't you?"

Blaine shrugged, still not trusting himself to meet Burt's gaze.

"Well, you don't have to talk to me if you don't want to. I'm just here to bring you back home." Blaine felt sick at how nice Burt was; he was willing to drive him the half an hour home despite the fact that he'd just messed up everything with Kurt again.

"It's fine." Blaine didn't recognise his own voice. It sounded empty and distant, no shred of emotion in it. "I can walk, it's only half an hour away."

Burt looked confused for a second.

"Kid, I was referring to our house. Kurt wants to talk to you, he's in a right state."

"Oh." Of course he was, Blaine had left so fast he hadn't had a chance to properly end things, he probably wanted to just clarify that he never wanted to see Blaine ever again. The thought felt like a knife, slicing through his insides, although why he didn't know, it wasn't like he didn't already know this. "I'd rather not." He said eventually, once he could trust himself to speak, realising Burt was still watching him expectantly. "Tell him not to worry, I get it."

"Get what exactly?" Burt raised an eyebrow, still baffled.

"That he doesn't want to see me again. I understand completely. I'll stay away from now on." His voice was still flat, emotionless. Burt huffed out a laugh and Blaine flinched, an instinct after years of being the laughed at, the subject of everyone's jokes. Then, suddenly, Burt was bending down, ducking his head to meet Blaine's eyes.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. That might just about kill him." He said, his tone light but his eyes very serious.

"Um, sorry?" Blaine was thrown off guard by Burt's comment, and it was his turn to look utterly confused. Burt just straightened up again, placing his ahnd on Blaine's shoulder.

"I think it's best if you hear it from Kurt." He said slowly, glancing over his shoulder at the road, where Blaine hadn't noticed until now that his truck was parked. "Come on, let's go."

He walked off towards the truck but Blaine remained seated for a second, his mind swirling with conflicting emotions. He desperately wanted to stay here, knowing he wouldn't be strong enough to face Kurt's final insults and then last goodbye without braking completely, but at the same time, if Kurt felt he needed to get it out, to let Blaine know just what a horrible human being he was, then who was Blaine to deny him that? Surely that was the very last thing he could give to Kurt; surely he owed him at least that much.

Swallowing around the persistent lump in his throat, he got up slowly on shaking legs and followed Burt back to the truck, wondering whether it was possible to actually collapse from feeling too many emotions in one day. He hoped so. Then he wouldn't have to face any of this, like the coward he was, and everything would just fade into a black oblivion. God, he wished he could just die right here, in this little park in the outskirts of Lima freaking Ohio. Besides, wouldn't that just be easier for everyone?


	7. Chapter 7

Blaine looked out the window silently on the very short ride back to Kurt's house. Burt was tapping his thumb absently on the steering wheel, sending Blaine thoughtful glances when he thought he wasn't looking. Why is this man even letting me near his son anymore? Blaine felt dizzy as Burt pulled onto the drive and unbuckled his seatbelt.

"Kid?" Burt asked, looking concerned. Apparently, Blaine had blanked out slightly. "You alright there?"

Blaine swallowed thickly and nodded.

"You like you're going to your execution or something. Kurt's not going to kill you, kid."

Really? Blaine thought, because right now it feels like no matter what he says, drawn out and brutal or mercifully quick, I'm going to crumble into a million pieces in the middle of your hallway.

He said nothing out loud, though, just unclicked his own seatbelt and climbed out the truck, eyes on the ground as he followed Burt to the door. It was unlocked so he pushed it open and gestured for Blaine to come in.

"Kurt! I found him!" Burt yelled down the stairs leading to Kurt's room and Blaine was frozen, eyes glued to the carpet as he listened to the unmistakable yelp and then the sound of footsteps running up the stairs. He could just make out Kurt stumbling to a stop out of his peripheral vision and tried to tuck his head impossibly lower so that he couldn't see the skinny-jean clad legs stood a few feet away from him.

"I'll give you kids some privacy, shall I?" Burt said good-naturedly and headed into the sitting room, closing the door behind him. Blaine held his breath, not trusting himself to so much as blink. Knowing him, he'd find a way to mess that up too.

"Would you like to go downstairs?" Kurt asked quietly.

Blaine shrugged.

"I—I just thought it might be a bit more private…" He continued and Blaine wanted to scream at how calm, how matter-of-fact he sounded. He couldn't do this, he needed to get out of here.

"Really, Kurt, this isn't necessary. I know you don't want to see me again. And-and I get it, I really do—"

"What?" Kurt interjected but Blaine ignored him, he had to say this and then he could go.

"—I know I'm a useless jerk who fucks everything up time and time again, but don't worry I'll stay away from now on. I understand. I won't bother you again."

He looked up for the first time to see Kurt still stood a few feet away, mouth open as if surprised. Had he really not expected Blaine to realise this for himself? Had he really thought he'd have to spell it out for Blaine? Mind you, Blaine thought savagely, based on how deluded he'd been the last few days, he supposed it really wasn't surprising that he'd thought that at all.

Kurt was now opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish, seemingly at a loss for what to say. Blaine dropped his eyes back to the floor.

"Don't worry, you don't have to say anything." He continued, using every last bit of strength he possessed to keep his voice expressionless. "I'll say it for you: Goodb—"

Suddenly, Kurt lunged forward and pressed his hand over Blaine's mouth, cutting him off before he'd managed to say the last words. Blaine tried to move his head back slightly, to free his mouth again, but Kurt was having none of it, his fingers pressing more insistently against Blaine's lips. They stared at each other for a moment and then very slowly, Kurt removed his hand, allowing one finger to linger on Blaine's bottom lip, the universal gesture to stay quiet.

"Blaine," Kurt breathed, so quiet that if he hadn't still been stood so close, Blaine wouldn't have heard it. "I told you…I'm never saying goodbye to you."

Blaine blinked and then Kurt's lips were pressing against his own, so soft and warm and earnest, and accompanied by such a flood of emotion that Blaine instantly felt his legs giving way. Luckily, Kurt seemed to sense this and quickly slid an arm round Blaine's waist, supporting most of his weight. God, Blaine had forgotten how incredible it felt, being this close to Kurt, the gorgeous smell of the various moisturisers on his skin, the delicious taste of his tongue as it tenderly flicked inside his mouth. Blaine let out something between a sigh and a strangled moan, not caring that they were still stood in the hallway, not caring that Finn could come lumbering down the stairs at any moment. No, all that mattered was that he was in Kurt's arms and they were kissing, soaking each other in as they poured everything they had into each other's mouths, and Kurt. Kurt, Kurt, Kurt, Kurt. He repeated the name in his head, certain it was his favourite word in the whole world.

After a while, they both pulled back, panting for breath, and Kurt rested his forehead against Blaine's.

"First off, I love you so much," he said, still breathing heavily. "And secondly, you're an absolute idiot, Blaine Anderson!" He swatted at Blaine's arm without any real force.

"I've been telling you that for years; I'm glad you finally agree."

They looked at each other for a second and then both burst out laughing for no real reason. Blaine felt giddy as he clutched onto Kurt's sides, making him laugh harder when it tickled. He ducked his head down onto Kurt's shoulder, gasping for air, yet not caring one bit. Kurt grinned at him, one of his rare genuine smiles that were reserved for only Blaine and Kurt's family. Blaine would never take that smile for granted ever again.

Just then, a phone went off and for a few horrifying seconds when Kurt answered it, Blaine thought it was Adam ringing again and his stomach sank. Kurt seemed to notice Blaine's face harden because he stepped back into his personal space, linking their fingers with his free hand, and mouthed 'Mercedes' at him.

"Hey 'Cedes, what's up?" He asked, rubbing his thumb across Blaine's knuckles in what seemed to be an unconscious gesture. Blaine marvelled silently at how easy it was to sink back into this, to them.

"Uh, I don't really know whether…hang on, I'll just ask…" Kurt covered his phone and looked at Blaine.

"Mercedes wants to know if we want to go to the mall with her and some of the other New Directions—hang out for a few hours? It's ok if you don't want to, we can just stay in…" Kurt said just as Blaine's stomach rumbled loudly.

"No, that sounds good. On one condition," Blaine replied and Kurt raised his eyebrow expectantly. "We have to get food because I-uh-skipped breakfast and I'm pretty sure my stomach is eating itself right now."

Kurt's face instantly fell and he looked horribly guilty. He quickly arranged to meet Mercedes in twenty minutes and ended the call.

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry! I'm meant to be looking after you this weekend and I didn't get you breakfast!" He exclaimed, looking genuinely horrified.

"Kurt, don't worry about it. We were kind of arguing at the time so…" Blaine rushed to reassure him.

"Yeah, about that—"

"We can talk about it later." Blaine cut across, his voice sounding forced even to his own ears. "We'd better get going if we're meeting them in twenty minutes."

"Yeah, I guess. Are you—I mean, I know we haven't, but—are you, like, ok?" Kurt asked, his voice soft and so, so caring.

"Yeah, no, I'm great." Blaine replied far too cheerily, taking his coat off the banister. Kurt looked torn for a moment and then grabbed his coat too, though he was quick to re-lace his hand with Blaine's.

"Ok, well, we better feed you before you completely waste away into nothing then." He patted Blaine's tummy playfully, causing Blaine to squirm away from him, a difficult feat given their linked hands.

Kurt, giggling, led Blaine into the living room just to tell his dad where they were going. Burt either didn't notice or was completely unfazed by their joined hands and closeness. It was unlikely to be the latter as Burt Hummel noticed everything; it was, after all, one of the many attributes that came with being the world's greatest father. He merely nodded and returned to the sporting section of his newspaper.

Kurt didn't drop Blaine's hand until they reached his car and he had to go round to climb into the driver's seat. Blaine instantly missed the warmth and wondered how it was possible to have already become this addicted to Kurt's touches again. He suspected he never really stopped.


	8. Chapter 8

Blaine ignored all the glances, some curious, some disgusted, that their joined hands attracted as they strolled into the West Entrance of Lima's only shopping mall. Just like he always did, he pretended they were just jealous of the fact that he had this perfect man at his side, that they could never hope to have such a flawless person. It was definitely preferable to dwelling on the real reason for the sneers and, in some cases, the muttered profanities; that half of Ohio's population were homophobic assholes with nothing better to do than show their revulsion at two men displaying more affection than they even came close to experiencing in their 25-year legal marriage. Well, screw them, Blaine thought, tightening his grip on Kurt's hand.

"Where did you say we'd meet them?"

"At the food court seeing as preventing your imminent starvation is kind of my priority." Kurt answered, smiling at Blaine's grin.

"Excellent. I literally could eat a horse right now. Or maybe just a large cat." His stomach chose that moment to grumble loudly, proving his point.

"Yeah, I reckon you may have to stick to a sandwich—don't want to alarm the Mercedes."

"You wouldn't be alarmed?" he asked curiously.

"Nope, I'm used to your ability to eat like a caveman, Tina probably isn't. Mind you, if you want to avoid another vapo-rape fiasco, maybe you should tell her…" Kurt squeezed his fingers to show he was joking, but before Blaine could reply, he'd dropped his hand and taken a step away from Blaine.

"Kurt, wha—" He started but Kurt cut him off.

"Hey 'Cedes!" He exclaimed, already striding through the entrance to the food court where he'd presumably just spotted the others. Blaine jogged after him, still a bit confused about his quick departure.

Kurt was hugging the little group assembled by a large table one by one by the time Blaine caught up. He kept his eyes on Kurt as Tina, Sam, Brittany, Artie and Mercedes hugged him, too, noticing that he looked decidedly awkward.

"How're you doing, Blainey boy?" Mercedes asked him, wrapping an arm round him. Blaine tried not to look too uncomfortable as Kurt stayed at the other side of the group from him.

"Uh, I'm good, thanks. You?"

"As fabulous as ever. These guys were just filling me in on the whole shooting ordeal last week—I'm glad you're ok. Kurt over here would've gone to McKinley and kicked their ass personally if anything had happened to you, wouldn't you, boo?"

Kurt just nodded awkwardly and then quickly started up a conversation with Tina. Blaine couldn't work out what was wrong; he'd been perfectly fine on the walk from the car.

"Uh, well, they haven't actually caught anyone yet, so…" Blaine replied uncomfortably. Mercedes took this as a sign that he wanted to change the topic and began soliloquising about the progress on her album for which Blaine was immensely grateful as it meant he only had to pretend to listen, nodding sporadically to show his agreement. Instead, his eye remained glued on Kurt who was looking more at ease now that the attention was off him, but his posture remained stiff and his arms crossed as he chatted to Tina and Brittany.

When they sat down at the table, Kurt purposefully walked round to the other side when Blaine sat down just to avoid sitting next to him. Then, after the long process of deciding on all their orders, Kurt got up to go get them and when Blaine offered to help, he quickly said he'd be "just fine" on his own with a barely-there smile shot over his shoulder. Even Sam seemed to pick up on the awkwardness because he patted Blaine on the shoulder as Kurt walked off and made an extra effort to involve Blaine in his debate with Artie over who would make a better Justin Bieber (for the record, Blaine had to agree that Sam had the better hair).

Blaine felt the uncomfortable embers of hurt firing up in his stomach at this sudden rejection, but more than anything he was just confused; he didn't understand how Kurt could be holding his hand and joking with him one minute and then pretty much ignoring him the next. And then, when Kurt returned with a tray of food and let Tina (Tina!) help him go back for the others, it hit Blaine. It was because they were with their friends—Kurt didn't want anyone to know they were back together. Was he embarrassed by Blaine? Or just embarrassed that he had forgiven him after he'd _cheated_ on him?

Blaine kept his eyes on his fries as he wondered why Kurt hadn't just told him so, hadn't just told him to act like friends. Then again, Blaine hadn't exactly been in a stable emotional state since Kurt had come back from New York, so maybe Kurt didn't want to risk setting him off again. But had he seriously thought suddenly ignoring him without explanation was better? Blaine felt his frustration budding inside his chest and quickly got up and excused himself to the bathroom before he said something stupid, his chair scraping too noisily along the floor.

He made himself walk, not run, to the restrooms and once he'd pushed through the door, he crossed straight to the sink to splash some cold water on his face.

"No, do not make this about you, Blaine." He said to his reflection, glaring at the drops of water running down his face. "Kurt has every right to not announce your reunion to the world if he doesn't want to."

But these are only our friends, a small voice in the back of his head reminded him, and Blaine cursed loudly as he dried his face off.

"Someone's swearing like a sailor, I see." Blaine jumped when he heard Kurt's voice, oblivious to the door opening, and spun around quickly to look at him. He opened his mouth to reply and then closed it again.

"Are you alright? You kind of looked weird when you left…" Kurt asked, his voice concerned, and Blaine had to stop himself from outright laughing.

"Yeah, maybe I just don't like being ignored for absolutely no reason." Blaine snapped, surprised at the acidity of his tone.

"Honey, I'm not ignoring you," Kurt's eyes widened as he took a step further into the bathroom.

"Really? You're not? It just feels like you won't so much as look at me, then." God, he really needed to calm down. When had he turned into such a needy emotional wreck?

"Honey, I am not ignoring you." Kurt said again, more firmly this time, and walked over to Blaine, wrapping his arms around him. Blaine melted into the embrace, as always, and sighed against his shoulder.

"So why can't I sit by you? Have I done something wrong?"

"No, no of course you haven't. I just didn't—Can we talk about this when we get home? I don't really want to have this conversation in a public bathroom," he gestured to the somewhat manky stalls and then, just to prove his point, a man and his young son walked in, throwing them a disgusted look when he saw them hugging. Blaine sighed again and reluctantly pulled back.

"Yeah, ok." He said finally, waving Kurt out the door in front of him. "Just don't, like, shut me out completely. You can still talk to me, right?"

"Of course I can. I'm not—" Kurt snapped his mouth shut as they approached the table again and Blaine rolled his eyes as the whole table tried to discreetly look at them when they sat down with about as much subtlety as Rachel's early crush on Finn. They continued to side eye Blaine as they continued their conversations until Kurt huffed out an annoyed sigh opposite him and reached across to Blaine's fries, grabbing one and pushing it against Blaine's mouth until he bewilderedly opened it and took it off him. His baffled expression made Kurt roll his eyes.

"For someone who claimed they could eat a horse ten minutes ago, you're not exactly tucking in," he gestured with his chin to Blaine's hardly-touched fries. The others had abandoned all attempts at discretion and blatantly gaped at them.

Brittany broke the awkward spell by clapping her hands together excitedly and exclaiming, "Yay, the dolphins are swim-buddies again!" which earned a series of chuckles from the group as they continued their conversations, this time both Blaine and Kurt joining in as the former tucked in enthusiastically to his long-awaited fries.

After lunch, the group left the food court and began browsing in the various shops. The guys got dragged into various clothes stores by the girls (and Kurt), rolling their eyes when Tina wanted to try on _another _dress for her college interviews. Blaine wasn't too fazed (he'd spent many a Sunday shopping with Kurt) and found he was actually enjoying just hanging out and goofing around with his friends. It had been so long since he'd allowed himself to let go and just have fun, whenever he'd tried to engage in anything more exciting than a night spent in Sam's room playing COD, he'd always felt weird afterwards—guilty, almost, like he wasn't allowed to enjoy himself after what he did. And then there was that constant nagging sensation that _this-would-be-so-much-more-entertaining-if-kurt-was-here_ that always made him feel sad and then guilty about feeling sad and so it went on.

But now Kurt was here, walking at his side, close but not touching, asking Blaine's opinion on at least one garment in every store they went in (though, if you asked him, Kurt looked gorgeous in everything)and cracking Blaine up with his witty side comments. They'd just come out of Armani Exhange, Tina moaning about how she'd finally found her dream dress only to find it was way out of price range, when Kurt stopped the whole group, and gestured to the store on his left.

"I think we should go in this one next. Blaine in particular would like too, wouldn't you, Blaine?" Kurt grinned and Blaine turned to look where he was gesturing and groaned.

"Kuuuuurt!" He pouted, glaring at the big blue letters outside the store that read 'GAP'. "Not funny!"

"Why would it be funny?" Kurt asked, feigning innocence. "I just thought you might like to go in and woo one of the hot sales assistants, that's all."

Most of the others looked confused but Mercedes snorted, Kurt having told her this story a long time ago.

"Yeah, Blaine, I'd love to hear you serenade someone." She grinned and Blaine shot a glare at her, too.

"What's the matter? Don't you have any awkward, sexually explicit songs at the ready?" Kurt added and Blaine had the sudden desire to kiss that stupid smirk off his face. Clenching his hands to avoid doing something rash (like reaching forward and grabbing Kurt's face), he mock-stormed off after the others who had apparently spotted a hot pretzel vendor, saying over his shoulder, "Ugh, I hate you both!"

Blaine had just joined the queue behind Sam who was trying to explain to Brittany that, no, they didn't sell cherry chapstick-flavoured pretzels, when Kurt and Mercedes caught up with him. The only warning he got was the two pairs of footsteps hurrying up behind him and then a pair of arms were wrapped around his shoulders as Kurt said right next to his ear, "You don't hate me really,"

"Oh, is that so?" Blaine replied, though he knew Kurt could feel his heartbeat thumping away unnaturally fast in his chest underneath his hands and Sam shot him a look that clearly said "seriously, dude, you're even gonna try and pull that one?"

"Mmhmm," Kurt replied confidently, passing Brittany his money. "Two, please." He said, squeezing Blaine's shoulders. "One for me and one for this guy here, who just so happens to hate me_._"

Tina snorted. "Please, like Blaine would ever hate you—He pretty much worships the ground you walk on."

"Tina…" Mercedes said in a warning voice, but Tina just rolled her eyes. Kurt's grin grew wider.

"Wow, Blaine, I'm flattered. But that's not very good evidence for hating me. In fact, I'd say you looooove me!" He teased, giving Blaine's shoulders a final squeeze before letting go. Blaine instantly missed the contact and the faint, ubiquitous scent of Kurt's cologne.

"Yeah, I do." Blaine breathed, too quiet for Kurt to hear.


	9. Chapter 9

When they got in from the mall, Kurt was going to sit down with Blaine and have the talk; the one that they really needed to have before they went any further. But Carol had made his favourite apricot tartlets and it would've been rude not to sit with her and sample them, show her his purchases as Blaine added his own commentary here and there. Then, Burt had wanted Kurt's help with some new orders for the garage and Kurt couldn't physically bring himself to say no to his dad, not when he spent more time in New York than at home now. Once he'd finally finished, more than a little frustrated with how long it had taken, and gone to find Blaine, Rachel decided to have a wardrobe crisis for some date with a Junior and Kurt had had to talk her out of wearing a tiara because, _really?_ Finally, after he'd sorted out a perfect first date outfit and she'd stopped sounding quite so hysterical, he'd hung up only to have Carol announce dinner.

It wasn't until eight that they were finally alone in Kurt's room (Blaine having insisted on helping with the dishes after dinner) and Kurt had meant to sit down and start the conversation, but Blaine had looked so tired and heartbreakingly gorgeous in the dim glow from his desk lamp that Kurt had simply popped on one of their favourite movies and snuggled back against the headboard with him before he'd even consciously processed what he was doing. And then a strange peacefulness had fallen over them and Blaine's side was so warm where it was pressed along his own that he didn't think he was capable of stringing together coherent thoughts even if he'd wanted to break the serene silence, which he didn't.

They were just getting to the part of the movie that always made Kurt tear up when he felt Blaine fidget next to him. He turned his head to find those ridiculously familiar hazel eyes boring into his.

"Kurt." Blaine said, and it wasn't a question, just a statement and for a moment Kurt thought he wasn't going to continue. But then he did.

"Why didn't you want to hold my hand in front of our friends earlier?" There was nothing accusing or judgmental about his tone, but Kurt's stomach still twisted unpleasantly because, hey, looks like they were going to talk after all.

"Because I just…" he trailed off, unsure how to put his feelings into words. "I wasn't ready."

"Can I…Can I ask why?" Blaine was still fidgeting uncomfortably but he hadn't dropped Kurt's gaze.

"Of course you can. I need some more time, that's all. You—you really hurt me," He felt his voice break and Blaine winced, his eyes finally falling down to his hands.

"I'm sorry," Blaine murmured, closing his eyes slightly.

"I know you are, but I've already forgiven you…It's not that exactly, it's just..." He ran a hand through his hair in frustration; this wasn't coming out right. "I'm scared."

Blaine looked up at that, his forehead wrinkled in confusion.

"I'm scared about how much it hurt when—when you cheated. And I know you're sorry," He hurried to continue as Blaine opened his mouth to apologise yet again. "But I'm still scared. I'm scared at how emotionally invested I get when it comes to you, at how I tried so hard to move on from you but couldn't. I'm scared that I'm going to trust you again too easily and my heart will just get broken again. Because I love you so much and that really scares me. I didn't want the others to know yet because it makes it all real, you know? It makes me and you a real thing again, and I'm just not ready for that yet. What happens if we start all over again and the same thing happens? I'm scared that you'll break my heart again and I'm terrified that I'll kick myself for letting you back in. I can deal with hating you but I can't—I can't— deal with hating myself."

Kurt felt himself sag back against the headboard in relief once he'd finished, once he'd finally let it all out. God, he'd needed to say that for months.

"Ok," Blaine said slowly, the letters drawn out, "Ok, so the others seeing us holding hands, that was too like before, like nothing had happened."

"Yes, basically," Kurt replied, twisting his hands in his lap. At least Blaine seemed to have understood what he'd said.

"It would've made it too final—everyone knowing that we're boyfriends again."

Kurt's head snapped up at that. Maybe Blaine hadn't understood what he'd meant after all.

"I just—I want us to take this slow. And—and I'm not ready to be your boyfriend again, I don't want that yet." He tried to explain; Blaine's face immediately fell and his eyes became too shiny.

"I'm not going to hurt you again." Blaine said with utter conviction, his eyes boring into Kurt's, oozing with sincerity. But Kurt couldn't just believe that; he couldn't completely surrender up his heart just yet, not when it was still taped together from last time, the wounds never having quite matured into scars.

"You don't know that, Blaine," He said, smiling sadly, willing Blaine to understand that he needed time. "We can still keep doing what we're doing, getting back on track slowly, but I just don't want to commit myself to anything—not yet."

"So you want to kiss me and hold my hand and go on dates, but you won't be my boyfriend?" Blaine asked and he sounded so goddamn unhappy that suddenly Kurt was angry; he just didn't understand. And he had no right to question what Kurt needed right now.

"You're the one who cheated, you're the reason we're not boyfriends in the first place!" He said, his voice rising in both volume and pitch.

"You think I don't know that?" Blaine had unconsciously moved even closer to Kurt on the bed.

"Well apparently not. You seem to think that you have some right to decide what stage we're at and just dictate how I feel about everything. Do you really think that's even up to you? I don't-want-to-be-your-boyfriend, Blaine!" Kurt shouted, accentuating each word as if talking to a mentally handicapped child. Blaine recoiled away from him, actually did a weird little jerk-leap backwards on the bed, and his shoulders slumped, his head ducking and his eyes filling with tears. For a moment Kurt thought he was going to start sobbing or run out of the house like earlier, or quite possibly both, but then Blaine looked up at him and he suddenly looked disconcertingly composed. Kurt's heart sank.

He knew that face, that mask that Blaine put up to hide his pain, the one that he usually reserved for his father. He knew the way Blaine's eyes hardened, knew the way his mouth evened out into a tight line, lips clenched together so as not to tremble, the way his posture became impeccable. He knew that polite, calm, flat tone when Blaine said, "You're right, I'm sorry", no emotion in his voice so as not to give anything away. Yes, he knew that face excruciatingly well after countless visits to the Anderson household, but never, _never_, did he think he would be the one to cause it. And the realisation cut through him, not like being chopped in half, that was too quick, too merciful. No, it felt like he was being stabbed repeatedly, over and over again, a million little needles jabbing into him.

"No, I'm sorry," Kurt whispered, wishing he could reach out towards Blaine but unable to move.

"Really, Kurt, the fault is all mine." Blaine said, smiling a horrifically fake, self-deprecating smile. Kurt could practically hear the pieces of Blaine's heart dropping to the bottom of his stomach, practically see him internally crying. Kurt wished he was crying, wished there were real, visible tears; anything but this self-inflicted torture Blaine used to internalise all the hurt, not show it on the outside because he wasn't meant to, wasn't allowed to.

"Blaine, no—" He began desperately, moving towards him, but Blaine cut across him, smile still firmly plastered in place.

"Just ignore me, I really shouldn't have. Let's continue the movie," He said lightly, shifting further away from Kurt on the bed, practically pressing himself up against the wall as he re-started the movie.

Kurt didn't know what to do. Angry Blaine, Kurt could deal with, or crying Blaine, or depressed Blaine, or hysterical Blaine, but this—this he had no idea how to fix. He'd caused this amazing, beautiful boy, who deserved all the laughter in the world, to retreat behind an impenetrable mask before his eyes. He, who knew Blaine better than anyone, suddenly didn't know this version of him at all, didn't even know where to start.

A sob left his chest as that thought really sank in. Blaine turned his head to look at him, smile gone but face still unnaturally inexpressive.

"Don't cry, silly," he said, but his voice was so un-Blaine like that it only made another sob escape, panic really setting in. "It's all fine now. I was being inconsiderate. Here, have a tissue," He handed Kurt a crumbled-up tissue, careful not to let their hands touch and then he just turned back to the movie. That was what did it—Blaine had never turned away from him crying before—and suddenly he couldn't stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks, chasing after each other as they dripped relentlessly onto his Marc Jacob's sweater. He didn't even care; he would never care about anything ever again if he had made Blaine permanently transform into this half-version of himself. As sob after body-wracking sob was wrenched out of him, his vision blurred and he became too light-headed. Unable to think any more, he allowed his instincts to take over and rolled to the side, curving himself around Blaine's unnaturally stiff form and latching on for dear life.

When the tears finally subsided enough for him to actually see, even if the picture was somewhat blurry, he glanced upwards, fingers still clutching Blaine's thigh, and for a fleeting second he saw the mask flicker, a tiny crack appearing. So he took the opportunity like a lifeline, hoping if he could just jam something into the crack he could lever it up somehow until the whole thing was lifted.

"I love you," he tried, his voice raw from crying but deadly sincere. Blaine didn't look away and that in itself Kurt considered a triumph. "I love you and I want to be your boyfriend again—just not yet. But I do want us to work on it."

Blaine blinked at him and Kurt could practically feel the raging internal war going on inside his head; it almost gave _him_ a headache, let alone poor Blaine. But then, maybe that was just a result of all the crying he'd done.

Blaine opened his mouth a few times, the mask receding further by the second, but he seemed unable to articulate his thoughts. Kurt gave him a watery smile of encouragement and reached out again, but as soon as his fingers made contact with Blaine's arm, his eyes instantly hardened and he closed off again as if someone had flicked a switch in his brain.

"It's getting late; I'll be in the guest room." Blaine said and Kurt's breath hitched. He had never chosen to sleep apart from Kurt whenever he had the choice. Why wasn't the mask disappearing? How badly had Kurt hurt him?

"You don't have to—you can stay here…" He whispered brokenly after him. There was no point raising his voice any louder; Blaine had already shut the door behind him.


	10. Chapter 10

Unsurprisingly, he couldn't sleep. He turned out the light almost immediately after the door shut as he always felt like he was being silently judged whenever he cried in anything less than darkness. The tears were plentiful and came with no prompting at all, not that he tried to stop them either, yet sleep evaded him. He stared at the black walls, tracing the shadows round the windows where the tiniest cracks of light peeked through from behind his blinds and curtains. He thought of poor, alone, heartbroken Blaine huddled underneath the blankets in the guest room; he always got cold easily when he was upset. Kurt cried harder and sleep continued to evade him, cruelly refusing to relieve him from his misery. At least he could control the sobs here in the darkness; years of practice at keeping the full extent of the bullying he'd endured from his father had taught him how to cry quietly. He wasn't sure if it made the process more cathartic or simply more torturous. Sometimes he wanted to scream so badly it hurt, but there was something perversely pleasurable about that intense burst of grief as tears rolled down his cheeks.

But the worst part, he thought as he rolled over yet again to let the other side of his pillow dry a little bit, the worst part was that no matter how awful he felt, it was surely nothing compared to how Blaine must be feeling. Kurt wasn't sure whether he would be lying there motionless in the darkness, his mask still firmly in place, lips trembling in the effort to keep from breaking as he internally torments himself, or whether he would have allowed himself to give in now that he's alone and cry into his pillow having also mastered the art of silent tears. Either way, Kurt was positive he wouldn't be asleep.

He quickly, angrily wipes at his wet cheeks and sucks in a shuddering breath as he kicks the duvet off and half-stands, half-rolls out of bed. He opens his door quietly, the slight click unnervingly loud in the silent hallway and pads down the landing to the guestroom, taking extra care when passing his dad and Carol's bedroom. Pressing his ear to the door, he waits, heart in throat, to see if there's any noise within. After a moment of silence, he pulls back and raises his hand to knock softly before realising that he wasn't in a fit state himself to talk Blaine down off his mental ledge tonight and, anyway, he couldn't risk waking Blaine just in case he was asleep.  
Closing his eyes against the fresh well of tears clinging to his eyelashes and threatening to spill over, Kurt reluctantly backed away. He decided to go and get a glass of water in the hope it might dislodge the lump in his throat enough that he could at least dose until morning. He crept down the stairs, mouthing a curse when the bottom step creaked, and walked into the kitchen, fumbling with the light switch for a moment before blinking against the sudden brightness, an unwelcome contrast to his beloved dark.

A glass and a half of water later, he realised the lump in his throat wasn't going anywhere and resigned to a sleepless night, he walked through to the front room, deciding he may as well watch some muted night-time TV. He could still feel the sobs heaving around in his chest, like the ebb and flow of the sea, swelling inside him and constantly threatening to surge out. He bit his lips together, just in case. Luckily, the sitting room door was open and he bent to pick the remote off the coffee table before turning round to sit on the sofa and freezing.

Blaine was lying along it, pressed up against the cushions at the back with his arms huddled securely around his knees, tugging them up against his chest. He had his eyes shut, but Kurt couldn't tell whether he was actually asleep or not, and then he spotted the coat draped over him, clearly meant as some sort of pathetic makeshift blanket and his heart broke into impossibly smaller pieces. Why hadn't he slept in the guest room?

"Blaine," He breathed out, somewhere between a sigh and a wine, and softly sat down on the free bit of couch next to him, jolting himself when Blaine jerked awake, his eyes small and raw-looking from crying. Kurt could see him physically struggling to look unaffected as his memory caught up with him, trying to claw some part of the mask back into place.

Kurt opened his mouth to say something else but Blaine had already dropped his gaze so he decided to try and different tactic and swung his legs up, sliding his body downwards until he, too, was lying on the sofa, pressed right against Blaine from forehead to foot due to the lack of space. Blaine tried to wriggle backwards but the back of the sofa stopped him so Kurt took pity and tried to move himself back a little instead, not appreciating just how small a couch it was, and almost fell off backwards—but then Blaine's arms were around him, his fingers splayed out on Kurt's back as he dragged him away from the edge and back against him.

Kurt rested their foreheads together again and breathed in that heady Blaine scent that always made his heart beat faster in his chest. Blaine's expression was guarded, but all traces of the mask was gone, and Kurt suddenly felt incredibly tired, unable to arrange his millions of thoughts into coherent, comforting words so he settled for just leaning even closer and pressing his lips to Blaine's forehead, eliciting a little hum from Blaine, who tucked his head under Kurt's chin. Soon, the combined warmth from the bodies and the comfort of being held had caused his breathing to even out as he fell asleep and Kurt let the steady rise and fall against his own chest lull him under too. His last thought before he drifted off was that the lump in his throat had disappeared.

*

The next morning, Kurt blinked his eyes open, still half asleep and disorientated. And then he inhaled slowly and became blissfully aware that Blaine's scent was all around him, telling him they'd fallen asleep in each other's arms. Sighing softly, he wiggled his toes and rolled over to snuggle into Blaine—and promptly landed with a muffled smack on the floor.

Then he simultaneously remembered that they'd slept on the couch (which would explain why his back was killing him) and realised that Blaine was no longer on said couch. It took his sleep-addled brain approximately two more seconds before memories of the previous night properly came back to him and then he began internally freaking out. This couldn't be a good sign; Blaine always stayed in bed whenever he and Kurt had shared a bed, regardless of whether they'd done anything or merely fallen asleep watching his TV. In fact, he had confessed to Kurt once, whispered in between stolen, sleepy kisses that it was one of the things he looked forward to most about them having their own apartment someday—that he'd be able to wake up next to Kurt every single day and never be cuddle-deprived again.

Disentangling himself from the coat which had fallen on top of him, twisting half under his legs (and, oh God, Blaine had chosen to sleep on the coach with a coat for a blanket rather than use the guest room), Kurt got up and ran into the hall, praying Blaine hadn't just left without saying goodbye. He was bound to still be upset and angry at himself and it would be the kind of stupid thing he'd do. He heard his dad's low chuckle coming from the kitchen and rushed towards it, ready to somewhat hysterically explain the situation to his dad and get him find him again, but when he skidded into the kitchen, he stopped dead in his tracks.

His dad was indeed in the kitchen, leant against one of the units, his usual 'best dad' coffee mug in hand, but there, stood in front of the stove next to him, chatting away happily, was Blaine. Before either man had time to look up, Kurt was rushing towards him and wrapping his arms around his back, his chin instinctively dipping down to rest on his shoulder.

"Whoa, morning," Blaine laughed, putting the spatula from where he was turning pancakes over in the pan down on the side. Kurt didn't say anything, merely hummed into his shoulder. Blaine was still here, everything was good.

"I see someone's a little touchy-feely today," Burt commented amusedly, raising his eyebrow at his son who was still clinging to Blaine so tightly that he couldn't so much as turn in his arms.

"At least you didn't walk in on them earlier," Finn interrupted, walking into the kitchen probably having smelt the food. "I went in to watch last night's sport highlights and there they were getting-it-on on the sofa."  
Burt laughed but Kurt turned his head to the side to look at him.

"We were asleep, you moron." He mumbled, still refusing to let go even when Blaine attempted to extract himself.

"Yeah, well, I still don't want to see that." Finn was already hovering near the stove, clearly looking to see if he could steal something. He didn't seem to twig the implication of his words until he looked up and saw Kurt's glare and Blaine's wide eyes and slightly open mouth. "No, I—God, I didn't mean like that," He said quickly, stuttering slightly as he rushed to explain himself, "Not— because I'm totally cool with you being gay and all that— I just didn't want to see— not 'cause it was two guys, just—"  
"I think they get it, Finn," Burt interjected, placing a hand on his shoulder. "No need to give yourself an aneurysm."

"Talking of heart problems," Kurt said, finally peeling himself away from Blaine, albeit it reluctantly, as he began to dish up. "Who said you could eat pancakes for breakfast? What happened to your diet cereal?"

Burt rolled his eyes as he took his plateful from Blaine. "Oh, come on, you're no fun."

"Neither are heart attacks, dad." Kurt said pointedly.

"Yeah, but it's a special occasion. Let me celebrate in peace." Burt sat down in his chair at the table.

"What are we celebrating?" Kurt asked, confused. He knew for a fact it was no one's birthday; he'd always been good at remembering dates.

"Blaine staying over again," Burt said, raising his orange juice at Blaine who blushed.

"I—what?" Kurt asked bemusedly.

"Can't I celebrate the fact you both got your heads out of your asses and are working stuff out now instead of moping around?"

"Yes, I—yes." Kurt said, his voice much quieter, no longer feeling like his dad was insane.

"So sit down and eat up the pair of you." Burt gestured to the chairs in front of him and both Kurt and Blaine sat down with their own platefuls, Finn attempting to slyly slip the remaining pancake onto his plate near the stove.

They ate in silence, broken only by the occasional complement at Blaine's cooking; Kurt hadn't been able to hold back the moan when he'd taken his first mouthful and although he'd flushed when all eyes turned to him, he secretly thought it was worth it when he caught Blaine grinning out of the corner of his eye.

After they'd finished and Burt had made Finn do the dishes ("Blaine did the cooking, Finn, it's only fair.,", "But what about Kurt?", "He did them last night.", "Ugh, fine…"), Kurt lead Blaine back into the front room where he froze as he saw the coat on the floor again.

"Blaine," Kurt said, twisting his head to look at him where he was stood awkwardly a few paces behind, as if unsure whether Kurt wanted him to join him or not. "I think we need to talk."

Blaine didn't draw into himself like Kurt had been expecting, he merely nodded and sat down when Kurt patted the couch next to him.

"Ok," He said quietly.


	11. Chapter 11

Blaine watched as Kurt interlaced is own fingers in his lap and then uncrossed them, clearly at a loss as to how to start.

"Can I—Can I say something?" Blaine asked carefully, feeling his own hands starting to fiddle restlessly. Kurt nodded. "I wanted to apologise for the way I acted last night—I was confused and upset and I shouldn't have just shut down like that. I tried so hard not to but it's just…" He trailed off, unsure how to explain it.

"Ingrained in you to do that?" Kurt supplied softly.

"Yeah, ingrained in me. Anyway, I should've talked to you instead of closing off and—I'm sorry." Kurt nodded, accepting the apology. "God, all I seem to say to you is 'sorry' now. I am, though. I know it doesn't make up for what I did and I know it won't magically make you trust me again, but for what it's worth, I will never stop being sorry for how I hurt you. And—and I guess that's why I was so upset last night, because I stupidly convinced myself that everything could just go back to normal now, like we were before you left for New York, and you don't know how long I'd been desperate for you to just be comfortable being my friend again, let alone—I knew you wouldn't want to be boyfriends again, I knew that, but over the last few days I allowed myself to hope and it was stupid, but—"

"It wasn't stupid, Blaine." Kurt interjected, having remained silent throughout Blaine's ramblings. "I'm sorry, too."

Blaine scoffed. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"Yeah, I do. These last few days, scratch that, these last few months, I've been giving you mixed signals and that wasn't fair to you and I'm sorry."

"I—ok." Blaine conceded and then they were quiet for a moment. "I'll admit Mr Schue's wedding was a bit confusing, though it's probably Sam you should be apologising to; he had to listen to me dissecting what it had meant non-stop for the next two weeks. In fact, now that I think about it, you might want to send him a muffin basket or something to make it up to him…"

Kurt snorted and leaned his head back on the couch, his eyes suddenly very blue as they flitted over Blaine's face. He felt the familiar pull in his chest as the sudden emotion overwhelmed him; no one else could do that to him but Kurt. But he knew now that Kurt needed more time and Blaine knew he needed to give it to him. If Kurt just wanted Blaine as his friend who he experimentally held hands with now and then, that was fine.

"So," Blaine continued after a pause. "Friends?" He extended his hand for Kurt to shake but, although Kurt gripped the hand and shook it gently, he didn't let go again, instead interlocking their fingers and bringing both their hands to rest on his thigh.

"I never said I wanted us to be just friends."

"You're kind of being confusing again." Blaine said slowly. "I mean, you don't want us to be friends but don't want a relationship, so what are we…?"

Kurt opened his mouth a few times then seemed to think better of it. He squirmed in his seat, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

"Oh my God!" Blaine suddenly shouted, laughing as something suddenly clicked. He almost jumped off the couch but Kurt's hand held him in place.

"What?" Kurt asked, smiling at Blaine's grin but obviously baffled.

"You—Kurt!" he dissolved into laughter again and Kurt looked even more bemused.

"You're kinda going to need to help me out here," He said pointedly but Blaine seemed to find this statement even funnier. It took a good minute for him to finally compose himself and sit up again, wiping happy tears from the corners of his eyes. Kurt squeezed his hand as he waited for him to explain.

"S-Sorry, just, I realised what you were trying to say. You want us to be friends with benefits, don't you?"

"I—well,what's so funny about that?" Kurt asked, slightly embarrassed.

"It's just you're all, you know," he gestured at Kurt with his free hand. "Grown up and stuff now, but you still couldn't bring yourself to tell me you wanted to be friends with benefits and it reminded me of the whole baby penguin thing and—" He broke off with a snort again and Kurt had to look away, grinning to himself.

"So you're not opposed to the idea, then." Kurt asked, stopping him mid-laugh.

"Say it." He said, meeting Kurt's gaze.

"It's just friends with—ok, I'm sorry, but that's such a cliché. And who even came up with that, it just sounds cheap—"

"Say it." He repeated, eyebrow raised gleefully.

"No one says that outside of movies—"

"How about intercasual friends?"

Kurt blanched.

"No? Ooh, I know pelvic affiliates? Cum chums? Still no? Someone's picky…Wait, how could I forget the timeless classic: fuck buddies!"

"Ok, ok," Kurt cut him off loudly before he could come up with any more weird-at-best-but-bordering-on-offensive terms, "Fine! Blaine, will you be my fuck bud—"

His mouth snapped shut as the door swung open and Burt stepped into the room, definitely smirking. Please don't let him have heard, please don't let him have heard, he chanted in his head, avoiding his dad's eyes.

"Sorry to interrupt your little-ah-proposal," Crap, he'd heard. "But Carol needs to ring her mother and was wondering if you could keep the noise down a little more if you're discussing such-ahem-sensitive topics. I don't think Lillian would appreciate it, really."

"Yeah, of course, sorry." Kurt didn't look at his father as he closed the door behind him, his cheeks burning as he studied the carpet. Clearly Blaine didn't have the same concern because he was grinning like a lunatic.

"Oh my God, your dad just heard you say f—" Kurt cut him off with a hand over his mouth.

"Enough." He said sternly and at least Blaine had the decency to look somewhat abashed. "I didn't really mean fu—that—anyway. I just meant can't we be friends getting to know each other in that way again? I mean, I've got to go back to New York in a couple of days—I could only get a week off—but it's not that long before the summer and I thought we could maybe, you know, become re-acquainted physically but just without the labels and stuff. Ok, I guess I did kind of mean friends with benefits."

Blaine nodded slowly as he considered the idea. He didn't exactly want to just be friends with benefits, but if that was what Kurt wanted, he couldn't really refuse could he? Kurt had been right last night; he was the one who had ripped them apart in the first place and he'd just have to live with the consequences. Even if it killed him to be in such an open relationship (God, what if Kurt wanted to still date other guys in New York?), he knew he'd agree in a heartbeat as long as he kept Kurt in his life in some capacity. And at least this way he would get to be intimate with Kurt when he came home again, yet maintain their friendship.

Kurt seemed to realise where Blaine's brain had gone, because he suddenly looked vaguely horrified.

"Oh, no, I didn't mean—It wouldn't be meaningless,it's not that I don't want to be your boyfriend eventually, I just can't…deal with that right now. It would be a monogamous relationship, I wouldn't…" He made a gesture which Blaine interpreted to mean 'have sex with other guys'. Blaine cringed slightly, remembering that he had done that to Kurt while they were still in a proper relationship. How had Kurt forgiven him for that? He slipped his hand out of Kurt's as the unshakeable self-hatred returned.

"Are you sure about this?" He asked, looking right into Kurt's eyes.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You don't think you should maybe…look around a bit first? I mean, Adam seems like a really nice guy…" The words were like ash in his mouth, but he had to say them; he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he'd made Kurt feel obliged to take him back in any way.

"No, Blaine." Kurt said, his gaze suddenly very intense. "I know what you're doing and I want you to stop. Yes, I have considered other men, I'm not going to lie to you. Adam and I tried the whole dating thing and it didn't work out."

"But maybe if you—"

"It didn't work out because I wasn't over you and I didn't really want to be. I couldn't admit it to myself at the time, but Adam knew. He was nothing but sweet to me and we had fun together, we did, but he's not you and he never will be."

"You mean he doesn't cheat on you just because you're no longer around twenty four seven?" Blaine asked bitterly.

"No, I mean that he could be as charming as he liked, but I'd never be in love with him." Blaine continued to shift awkwardly on the couch. "Blaine, look at me, I know I wasn't exactly the world's best boyfriend when I left. I got too wrapped up in and didn't make time for you. I know!" He cut across when Blaine tried to interject. "I know that doesn't excuse what you did, but I also know that I can't sit here and say you should have just talked to me about how you were feeling when I know I probably wouldn't have listened. Not properly, not like you deserved to be listened to."

Blaine didn't try to argue this time and Kurt took it as a good sign, moving closer to him on the sofa until their sides were pressed together.

"But I know you didn't do it to purposefully hurt me, you were lonely and you made a mistake." He re-joined their hands together, cradling them close to him. "I've forgiven you, forgave you a long time ago if I'd been honest with myself, and I love you so I want us to try again. But, like I said last night, I'm still scared, Blaine. I'm scared and I want to take things slow this summer so right now I don't want the pressure of labels and people judging us. I just want it to be like how it was at the beginning when I was a blushing baby penguin in a blazer and we were just Kurt and Blaine, simple as that. I don't mean you're not allowed to feel anything if we become intimate again. Nothing's ever meaningless with you, I hope you know that—Even when we hooked up at the wedding and I kept telling you we were just friends, it didn't mean I wasn't feeling anything. It just meant I was too scared to admit to feeling stuff. So, what do you reckon, can we give this another shot?" Kurt asked, squeezing Blaine's hand.

Blaine stayed still for a moment and then shyly looked up. "I'd like that." He said quietly. "I'd like us to be Kurt and Blaine again."

"Good," Kurt smiled. "Because I'd like that too."

And then he leaned forward, slow enough for Blaine to pull away if he wished, and pressed his lips to Blaine's in a soft kiss.

"I love you," Kurt said as they pulled away just enough for him to snuggle against Blaine's chest, his head tucking under his chin.

"I love you, too." Blaine replied, sounding slightly choked-up.

As Kurt shifted, his foot caught on something on the ground, creating a rustling noise. He looked down curiously and saw the coat from last night, still in a bundle on the floor.

"Blaine?" he asked quietly.

"Mm?"

"Why did you use your coat as a blanket last night?"

"Oh, I—I didn't want to wake anyone up and I was cold so…"

"Why didn't you just sleep in the guest room?"

"I was going to but it's full of stuff and the bed was covered up."

Kurt sucked in a breath as he remembered; his dad was slowly converting it into an office where he could manage all the garage's finances.

"Blaine," He moaned quietly, clutching him impossibly closer. "You idiot, you should have just come back into my room."

Blaine chuckled quietly. "Nah, I needed some time to be an idiot by myself, get it out of my system a bit."

Kurt didn't respond, just nuzzled into Blaine's neck, his breath puffing out against the expanse of skin there. Both of them jumped as someone suddenly turned the radio up in the kitchen, the unmistakable sound of Katy Perry's Teenage Dream travelling through the wall.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "I hate my dad," he murmured into Blaine's chest, no heat behind the words.

"I love your dad," Blaine countered, shifting until he got comfy again, his arms remaining wrapped around Kurt.

"Mm, well that's good 'cause he loves you too."

They stayed quiet after that, simply enjoying each other's company, the safe rise and fall of their breathing nicely comforting. Kurt realised that for the first time since they'd broken up, he was listening to that song without getting the urge to hurl the radio across the room. Sure, he didn't really want to remember that fateful weekend when Blaine had told him and his life had fallen apart at the seams, but that didn't mean he couldn't hold onto their previous memories and there was absolutely no reason why they couldn't create new ones.

With that in mind, he disentangled himself from Blaine and pulled him up off the sofa before drawing him close again. Slowly they began swaying from side to side vaguely in time with the music, occasionally spinning Blaine under his arm and vice versa. Teenage Dream finished and the next song came on (some current pop hit) and their dancing became more energetic as they danced round the sitting room, laughing and, in Kurt's case, sporadically warning Blaine of the dangers of jumping on furniture.

Yes, Kurt thought, rolling his eyes fondly as Blaine leapt off the couch arm for the third time, narrowly missing the coffee table, he was looking forward to creating new memories together.

**Finis **


End file.
